


Situation Normal

by glasgowgirl92



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3894484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgowgirl92/pseuds/glasgowgirl92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This should turn out to be a fairly long series exploring all four major Band of Brothers ships, although since Winnix is my favourite they will probably form the backbone of the narrative.  
> I know some people aren't crazy about modern AUs but I really wanted to show them all doing fun couple-y stuff together, which wasn't exactly going to be realistic in a 1940s setting.  
> The teen-rating is mainly for swearing, but there will be some (mild) love scenes further down the line. This was more an opportunity to explore the characters.  
> I named Snafu before realising there is a character in The Pacific with the same name. She is no relation.

‘Lew, come on, we’re gonna be late.’  
‘Hmmph.’  
Lew pulled the covers closer to his chest, opening one bleary eye to see Dick leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. The scent of that godawful tea-tree shampoo he always insisted on using wafted into the bedroom as Dick began searching around for underwear.  
‘Come on, Nix, you’ve got ten minutes.’  
Dick started opening and slamming drawers rather more loudly than was strictly necessary, rattling the coat hangers inside the closet as he pulled out a fresh shirt.  
‘Alright, alright. I’m up.’ Lew rolled onto his back, pushing the covers away and feeling the cool air slowly bring him to life. Yawning enormously, he sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. Dick glanced over as he slung the shirt across his shoulders, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Lew grimaced back at him. ‘Y’know, my dad owns the company, I don’t think we’re gonna get fired for being five minutes late.’  
Dick merely paused in the process of fastening his trousers to throw a decidedly more crumpled and greying shirt in Lew’s direction. Grumbling, Lew got up and stumbled to the bathroom.

The bathroom was tiny, in keeping with the rest of the apartment. When they first moved to the city, Nix had rather hoped that his father’s generosity in offering them both jobs might have stretched to his offering to help with a deposit. He wasn’t exactly surprised when this proved to be wishful thinking on his part. Besides, he reflected, Dick had been predictably mortified at the very idea of it. Instead they had taken this rather tawdry little shoebox in an area of town which, for all its faults, at least wasn’t crawling with tourists. The whole place was barely bigger than the Nixon family home’s second-smallest dining room, but the look in Dick’s eyes when he pointed to where their bed and their dresser would fit ‘just perfectly’ made it as good as a palace. So they’d painted the tired old walls in primrose yellow and spent hours puzzling over a giant Ikea bookshelf, to provide some kind of separation between the kitchen and the bedroom. A pair of mismatched chairs and a tiny dining table that rocked on its uneven legs were squeezed into one corner. The smog-stained window looked out onto a charming view of the neighbouring apartment block’s fire escape. But for the first time in his life, Lew had looked around him and seen home.  
_‘Lewis!’_  
Lew poked his head round the bathroom door, still brushing his teeth.  
‘Hmmm?’  
‘I bought milk yesterday, what did you do with it all?’  
‘Hurrlurrburghhh…’ He turned and spat into the sink. ‘I was trying to make White Russians.’ He could hear Dick’s exasperated sigh from the kitchen.  
‘I am not eating Pop-Tarts for breakfast _again.’_

Lew couldn’t quite stifle a giggle as he emerged in time to see Dick staring forlornly at an empty milk-carton.  
‘Sorry. I’ll go shopping today.’ He crouched down and peered under the bed, retrieving yesterday’s suit trousers from the floor and flinging them onto the mattress before turning to rifle through the underwear drawer.  
‘The last time I let you go shopping on your own you came back with a fifth of Vat 69 and a packet of Twizzlers.’  
‘You didn’t give me a list.’  
As he pulled on his socks he could hear Dick muttering darkly, followed by some reluctant crunching.  
‘These are vile.’  
‘Please, Dick, Pop-Tarts are delicious. Live a little.’  
Lew dressed quickly, figuring he’d exacted enough revenge on Dick for getting him up at whatever ungodly hour it was. By the time he’d finished, Dick was standing by the front door, checking his watch.  
‘Ready?’  
‘Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.’

The apartment was only on the first floor so they took the stairs out onto the street. It was a late April morning, the sky stretching clear and blue overhead. Sunlight infiltrated the gaps between tall buildings, promising to burn away those cold pools of shadow that still remained. The nearest tube stop was a few blocks away. Dick walked briskly, Lew keeping pace at his side.  
‘So tell me, what does an HR Manager do?’  
Dick side-eyed him. ‘…Manage HR.’  
Lew raised his eyebrows, weaving slightly as he tried to light a cigarette on the move. ‘Sounds exhilarating.’  
‘And what exactly is your job description?’  
‘I don’t know, but yesterday I photocopied some envelopes then took a 2-hour lunch break so who’s complaining.’  
Dick laughed, shaking his head. He glanced thoughtfully at Lew.  
‘Nix?’  
‘Hmm.’  
‘What does your dad’s company actually do?’  
Lew took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Y’know… I honestly have no idea.’ He grinned at Dick. ‘But then I’m just the guy who photocopies the envelopes.’

They reached the tube station just in time to see their train pulling in.  
‘C’mon,’ Dick broke into a jog, trying to get to the quieter carriages further up.  
‘Aw, Dick, there’s another one in five minutes!’  
‘Hurry up, Lew.’  
They ran along the platform as far as they could before ducking into the train just as the doors began to close. Much to Lew’s disgruntlement, the carriage was nearly full anyway.  
‘Well, that was a- watch out-‘  
Lew put out a steadying arm as Dick swayed to get out of the way of a young man giving up his seat to an old lady.  
‘Sorry,’ the man responded in a warm southern drawl, turning towards them with a hangdog expression.  
‘Eugene!’ Dick and Lew exclaimed simultaneously. He answered them with a slow, quiet smile.  
‘Hey, guys.’  
Lew laughed, patting him on the shoulder. ‘How’s it going?’  
‘Okay, just headin’ to the clinic.’ They shuffled closer to the doors to make space for him. Eugene leaned back against the handrail. ‘You guys just moved to around here?’  
Dick nodded. ‘Yeah, got a little place on West Street.’  
‘Huh,’ Eugene’s smile stiffened a little. Lew exchanged a knowing glance with Dick.  
‘It’s alright, we know it’s a dump.’  
Eugene laughed, ducking his head. His face relaxed. ‘I’m sure it’s just great.’  
‘What about you?’  
‘Well… Me and Edward got an apartment on Bay Avenue.’ He glanced at them sheepishly. Lew whistled.  
‘Nice.’  
Eugene shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Got some good business going since I went for private practice: the clinic’s really started makin’ a name for itself. So I figured why not invest, y’know. And it’s ground floor so it’s good for Snafu.’  
Lew grinned. ‘How is old Snafu?’  
Eugene gave a rueful sigh. ‘Fat as ever. Edward spoils her too much.’

Dick moved closer as they squeezed out of the way of the doors at the next stop. ‘And how’s Babe?’  
A tender look illuminated Eugene’s face. ‘He’s fine. He’s gonna be working shifts at Joe and Bill’s new bar.’ He glanced from Dick to Lew. ‘You guys heard about that? It’s called Legless.’  
Dick shushed Lew as his laughter drew angry glares from the other passengers.  
‘Legless?’  
Eugene chuckled. ‘Yeah. They’re having a big opening party next week if you guys wanna come?’  
‘Sure, sounds great.’  
‘I’ll give you a call, let you know the address. My stop’s next.’ Eugene checked his watch, then looked up at them. ‘Oh, and about Snafu… Edward took her to the dog park a few months ago and, uh, well… she had a bit of an accident.’ He rubbed the back of his head again. ‘Six little accidents, to be precise. I’ve found good homes for three of ‘em, but the other three are coming up for twelve weeks now and if I can’t find somebody to take them I’m gonna have to give them to the shelter. So, I know it’s maybe a long-shot, but if you guys know anyone who’s looking to adopt a puppy can you let me know? Maybe you could ask around at work, if it’s not too much trouble?’  
Lew just stared at him, a strange light in his eyes. ‘Snafu had puppies?’  
The train juddered to a halt at the next stop. Dick put a hand on Lew’s shoulder.  
‘Sure, Eugene, absolutely. I’ll put something up on the message board at work, I’m sure there’ll be someone.’  
‘Thanks. I’ll see ya.’ Eugene nodded at them both before slipping away into the crowd. 

The doors slid closed. After a moment of silence, Lew turned towards Dick with a studied air of nonchalance.  
‘Dick…’  
‘No.’  
‘Dick, come on, you don’t even know what I was about to say!’  
‘I know exactly what you were about to say.’  
‘I’d take care of it! I’d feed it and train it and take it for walks… you wouldn’t even know it was there!’  
‘Lewis, you can’t even do those things for yourself.’  
‘That is an outrageous slander.’  
‘You order home-delivery from the pizza place one block away from the apartment. Yesterday you apparently drank over a _pint_ of White Russians. It took me three months to train you not to leave your cigarette butts in the bath!’  
Lew huffed defeatedly.  
‘Can we at least go and see them before they get adopted?’  
Dick gave him a wary look. ‘…It would be nice to see Babe and Eugene again. I’m glad we bumped into him.’  
Lew needed no further prompting. ‘Well, that’s settled! We can go round before Bill and Joe’s big opening party!’  
Dick was keeping up the act, but Lew could see the smile catching at the corner of his mouth.  
‘Fine, but we’re just going to look, remember? I’m sure there’ll be someone in the office looking for a dog. This is us.’  
The carriage doors opened again. As they walked along the platform, Dick could have sworn that Lew was bouncing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting Babe, Eugene and Snafu.

‘You sure this is the right Bay Avenue?’  
‘Vets make good money, Nix.’  
Lew and Dick strolled past rows of red brick apartment buildings, white cornices lining the windows and doorframes. Styled black iron fences defended each ground-floor apartment’s pocket-handkerchief garden from the bustle of the sidewalk.  
‘What number was it?’  
‘Seventy-two. That one.’  
They reached the front door. Each apartment’s buzzer was marked by a neatly-engraved name tag. There at the very bottom, a little newer than all the others, was the one they were looking for: ROE/HEFFRON. Dick smiled.  
‘That’s sweet. We should get one, for when we have company round.’  
Lew chuckled, throwing him a dubious look. ‘Company? There’s barely enough room in there for the two of us. We’d have to ask someone to stand in the bathroom.’  
Dick gave him a playful shove before pressing the buzzer.  
_‘Hello?’_  
‘Eugene, it’s Dick and Lewis.’  
_‘Great, come on in.’_  
The door clicked open.

‘Hey, wait up!’  
They paused in the doorframe, looking back to see Carwood Lipton a little way up the street, jogging towards them.  
‘Lip!’ Lew leaned against the door to keep it from closing. ‘Didn’t know you were coming?’  
‘I wasn’t. Last-minute deadline extension.’ Lip strode down the garden path, panting a little. ‘Apparently my supervisor managed to get Pneumonia in April.’ He flashed them both an earnest smile, clapping each on the shoulder as they shook hands.  
‘Still enjoying student life?’ Dick asked, with a knowing glance. Lip sighed.  
‘It’s not quite as fun once you’re a boring old Postgrad.’  
They moved inside just in time to see Eugene opening the apartment door. His hair was ruffled and there were dark circles under his eyes, but his smile was warm.  
‘Lip! Glad you could make it.’  
‘Me too. Oh, I brought you these-‘ Lip slung the backpack from his shoulder and produced from it a little pink-striped box, marked _Patisserie Brécourt._ ‘I wasn’t sure which ones you like so I just got a selection of Petits Fours, hope that’s ok.’  
‘Well, thanks!’ Eugene took the box, running a thumb over the label. ‘Patisserie Brécourt? I ain’t been there before.’  
Lip shrugged. ‘I just happened to be passing, thought you might enjoy them better than a bottle of cheap wine.’  
‘Aha, speaking of…’ Lew rather sheepishly held up a bottle of Merlot. ‘This is also for you.’  
Dick flushed a little, but Eugene just laughed and pushed the door wide.  
‘Much appreciated. Come on in!’

The apartment was all white walls, wood floors and exposed brickwork. Their footsteps echoed as they walked in. Dick lowered his head, leaning in close.  
‘It looks like an art gallery’, he whispered in Lew’s ear. Lew suppressed a huff of laughter, some smart remark forming on his lips about Dick being a philistine. When he looked up at Dick’s face, full of a wonder untainted by the hope of wanting, his tongue stumbled. He and Dick fit so well together: some essential commonality in their natures making a harmony of their numerous differences. It made him forget, sometimes, just how very unlike his own Dick’s life had been. Lew squeezed his hand, running his thumb briefly along the soft underside of Dick’s wrist.  
‘Hey, fellas!’  
Babe came forward to greet them. He walked with a cocky little shuffle in his step, shoulders swinging, unmistakeable from five hundred yards and entirely out of place in a minimalist Bay Avenue apartment. With his shock of red hair and that silly infectious grin, Lew couldn’t imagine anyone more at odds with Eugene’s quiet carefulness. Not, he supposed- glancing at Dick- that such a thing boded ill for a couple. As they made the rounds of hugs and handshakes, a skittering scratch of claws on wood announced Snafu’s sudden presence, tangling herself amid the cluster of feet as she sniffed thoroughly around the new arrivals.  
‘Snafu!’  
Lew crouched down, giving her a scratch behind the ears. When Eugene had first liberated her from the animal shelter during one of his student rotations, there had been much discussion regarding exactly what she was. They all agreed there must be some Labrador in there, judging by her chocolate-coloured coat and the shape of her muzzle. The silky fuzz around her ears and the splash of white across her chest suggested Collie, but her short, stubby legs and stunted tail were a mystery to everyone. Whatever she was, she had taken to domestic life with great alacrity, rapidly gaining weight until she resembled a furry little barrel on four legs. Since Babe was the one to look after her with Eugene at the clinic all day, her strict regime of diet and exercise was more often than not replaced with tummy-rubs and table scraps. Lew could scarcely imagine what she must have looked like with six puppies in there. 

‘I asked around at the office but no luck yet,’ Dick said to Eugene as he helped to load the Petits Fours onto a plate. Eugene answered with a shrug, uncorking the wine.  
‘Thanks for tryin’. It’s good for the pups to meet new people anyway.’  
From the open-plan kitchen they could see Lew and Lip stepping over the small makeshift enclosure that cordoned off part of the living room. Three clumsy balls of fur, which had hitherto been sleeping on a large dog-bed, scrabbled to life with a chorus of yapping and tumbled around their feet. The largest of them had a faint red sheen to his coat and ears like Snafu’s. The second was almost a mirror-image of his mother, right down to the patch of white on his chest. The third was much smaller than the others and darker than either of them, her coat almost black. Her long, pointed ears- wherever she’d got those from- flopped comically over themselves, not yet strong enough to hold their own weight.  
‘Dick! Come and see!’  
Lew was sitting on the floor, the two smaller puppies climbing over him. Lip and the red puppy already seemed to have eyes only for each other. Dick set the Petits Fours down on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa beside Babe.  
‘I can see from here.’  
‘Aw, Dick-' Lew looked over at Babe. ‘Can I take one out of here?’  
‘Sure, but keep hold of ‘em, they’re a devil to catch.’

Lew gleefully scooped up the little female puppy and vaulted over the dog-gate, sitting down with a _flump_ in-between Babe and Dick.  
‘Here.’  
‘Lew, I don’t- really, it’s-' Dick’s protests fell on deaf ears as Lew dumped the puppy unceremoniously in his lap.  
‘Keep hold of her, now,’ Babe warned. Dick clasped the squirming little thing reluctantly in his hands. Her fur was incredibly soft, still thin enough on her belly to show the naked pink skin beneath. Her black nose glistened and twitched as she sniffed at Dick’s fingers.  
‘I suppose she is quite cute,’ he admitted warily, offering his hand to her. She considered it for a moment before mouthing gently at the tip of his thumb.  
‘Ow!’  
Babe snickered. ‘Yeah, they’ve still got their puppy teeth. Sharp as needles.’  
Dick moved his hands to her sides, out of harm’s way. The puppy watched him with dark chestnut-coloured eyes, panting a little with all the excitement. It made her look like she was smiling, Dick thought. He turned to Lew, whose face looked about fit to burst with grinning, his brown eyes shining and his dark hair tousled as usual.  
‘She looks like you,’ Dick joked. Babe laughed at that. As Eugene emerged from the kitchen with the wine and some glasses, Dick caught the tail-end of a conspiratorial glance between them.  
‘Alright, the jig is up,’ he said, still stroking absently at the puppy’s long velvety ears. ‘You brought us all here to trick us into taking these things off your hands!’  
Eugene said nothing, simply biting back the beginnings of a smile as he set out the glasses. Babe opened his mouth in mock-incredulity.  
‘That is absolutely not-‘  
He was interrupted by the door-buzzer. 

A few moments later they were joined by David Webster, carrying a well-worn notebook and yet another bottle of wine.  
‘See!’ Dick gestured at Web, twining an arm instinctively around the puppy now curling up to sleep in his lap.  
‘What’s all this about?’ Web looked around the room, bending over to ruffle Snafu’s ears. Eugene took the bottle from him with a smile.  
‘Actually, Web and Lip already agreed to adopt. They’re here to pick which ones they want.’ Eugene nodded towards Lip who, oblivious to the company around him, appeared to have already taught the red puppy how to shake hands. ‘Looks like Lip’s already made his choice. That leaves one of those two for Web. Unless you…’ He trailed off, looking at Dick. Lew’s eyes were boring into the side of his head. Web strolled over to the enclosure and looked down at the last puppy, gnawing obliviously on a chewy bone.  
‘I’d rather take a female, if there is one…’  
‘Oh, alright.’ The words were out of Dick’s mouth before he had a chance to think. Feeling Lew glowing beside him, he turned irritably to face him, the puppy’s sleeping head resting in one palm. ‘But _you’re_ the one who has to deal with it when she pees all over the floor-‘  
‘Actually, they’re all pretty much house trained by now,’ interjected Babe.  
‘…Oh. Ok. Well, you’ll have to organise a vet and-‘  
‘Uh, they’ve had their second round of shots, and they’re already registered at the clinic,’ Eugene said, pouring the wine.  
‘Oh. Well-‘ Dick’s voice stuttered. ‘Well, we can’t afford to put her in doggy daycare so-‘  
‘So I’m sure my dad will happily accommodate a dog in the office if I promise to actually do some work for a change,’ Lew added, with an air of finality. He stroked Dick’s hand, a tender look in his eyes. ‘Come on, Dick. She loves you.’  
Dick looked down at the little bundle of soft fur and fragile bones, her snout twitching as she dreamed. Glancing up, he saw everyone’s eyes fixed expectantly on him.  
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if all of you were in on this,’ he grumbled, provoking a round of furtive giggles. He smoothed the puppy’s folded ears. ‘We’ll have to think of a name for her.’  
Lew smiled at him. ‘Yeah, we will.’

***

Two bottles of wine later, a trio of thoroughly exhausted puppies had been returned to their bed and it was nearing the time to depart for Bill and Joe’s big opening-night party. Lew leaned back on the sofa, swinging an arm around Dick’s shoulders.  
‘So, what are you up to these days, Web? How’s the novel going?’  
‘It’s a screenplay now, actually,’ Web replied, browsing the large bookcase next to the patio doors. ‘Almost finished.’  
‘He’s been saying that for _months_ ’, Babe muttered under his breath. Eugene delivered a swift elbow to his ribs.  
‘Still working at Ocean World?’ Lip asked, draining his wine glass.  
‘Not for much longer, I hope.’ Web thumbed through a copy of Slaughterhouse-Five then slotted it back amongst the shelves. ‘I mean, the live-handling sessions are great, and I get to lead the Shark Dives a couple of times a week. It’s just…’ He sighed. ‘When we have birthday parties they make me wear the dolphin costume.’  
Eugene, bless him, nodded earnestly along. The rest of them fought not to crack up.  
‘Well, that’s dolphinitely not on,’ Lew managed, before Dick stomped surreptitiously on his foot.  
Babe’s shoulders shook. ‘Some-fin should be done about it, eh, Lip?’  
‘I don’t know, Babe, things could be a shoal lot worse…’  
‘Alright, alright!’ Web huffed angrily as they collapsed into giggles. ‘I went to Harvard, for God’s sake… they could at least let me wear the pirate outfit instead.’  
‘Oh, come on, David,’ Dick said, his face suddenly very serious. ‘I’m sure they’re not doing it… on porpoise.’

Amid the resulting howls of laughter, interspersed with Snafu’s barks as she tried to join in with the commotion, they almost missed the sound of Web’s phone ringing.  
‘Guys, shut up!’ he shouted, unable to keep from chuckling a little himself. ‘He-hello? Hello? Lieb, can you hear me?’ He waved at them to be quiet. ‘Well of course I can hear _you!_ Are you… okay… okay… wait, are you driving right _now?_ Lieb! You’re so _irresponsible!_ Pull over… No, I… ugh, fine… Okay, we’ll be waiting outside. Seventy-two. Bay Street... No, _Bay_ Street. _Bay. Street._ Okay. Okay, bye.’ He slipped the phone back in his pocket. ‘Lieb’s shift just finished so he can swing round and give us a lift to the bar.’  
‘Not all of us,’ Lip pointed out. ‘We’ve got two extra.’  
‘That’s alright,’ Eugene got to his feet. ‘Me and Babe can take Renée.’  
Dick looked puzzled. ‘Who’s Renée?’  
Babe rolled his eyes. ‘It’s his bike.’  
Eugene was crashing about in the utility room. Eventually he emerged with two helmets. ‘She’s a Yamaha SR400.’  
Lip whistled. ‘Sweet.’  
‘It’s a _bike_ ,’ Babe muttered, taking a helmet from Eugene, who swiped playfully at the back of his head.  
‘What, you scared, Heffron?’  
‘Oh, scared of what? Gettin’ squashed into strawberry jam by a city bus? Call me crazy…’

The six of them eventually stumbled out onto Bay Avenue, just in time to see Lieb’s yellow cab pull up in front of them. He rolled down the window, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke as he stuck his head out at them.  
‘Jesus, Gene, this place ain’t half swanky!’  
Eugene ducked his head, his pale face flushing just a little. ‘Hey Joe. Me and Babe’ll meet you guys down there, alright?’ The two of them made their way over to a motorbike sitting a little way down the block: all shiny black and silver, spoked wheels and aluminium rims. Lip eyed it with an envious glint in his eye.  
‘You think Eugene’d let me take her for a spin?’  
Lew raised his eyebrows dubiously. ‘Come on, you can ask him when we get there.’  
‘You ridin’ shotgun, Webster?’ Lieb winked at Web.  
‘Always.’  
They all piled in, Lip in the back with Dick and Lew.  
‘So where is this place?’  
‘Kingsland Street, just put it in your GPS.’  
‘You kiddin’? This is all the GPS I need,’ Lieb tapped the side of his head. Web sighed dramatically, slumping down in the front seat.  
‘You’re such a troglodyte.’  
‘Hey, hey: you can use all the big words you want, Mr. Mensa, it don’t mean I can’t tell when you’re insulting me. Now put your damn seatbelt on.’  
The three in the back shot each other long-suffering glances.  
‘How far away are we?’ Dick whispered.  
‘Only about ten minutes,’ Lip replied as they pulled away, Lieb and Web still bickering in the front.  
Lew stuck his elbow out the open window. ‘Small mercies, huh?’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening night at Legless: the gang are introduced to Lip's 'weird boyfriend'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's been following the story so far (thank you!)  
> I have this written several chapters in advance and new chapters will be posted weekly. Enjoy!

When the cab finally made it to Kingsland Street after several wrong turns and a shortcut that almost cost them a wing-mirror, Babe and Eugene were already waiting outside.   
‘I think I feel car-sick,’ Dick muttered in Lew’s ear as they made their way across the street.   
‘We were only in there about twenty minutes...’  
‘Twenty minutes of Lieb’s driving is more than enough.’  
Lew chuckled. ‘Come on, we’ll get you an orange juice.’

The bar was a modest size: one wall lined with well-worn leather booths, the other taken up by the drinks counter, a dartboard and an ancient, battered-looking jukebox. Bill and Joe were already being kept fairly busy with drinks orders, but Bill looked up and waved at them as they came in.  
‘Hey, fellas! Glad you could make it!’ He gestured over at one of the booths. ‘Saved ya a seat, I’ll be right over in a second.’  
They all piled in, Lew and Lieb immediately stealing the drinks menus.   
‘Is anyone else coming?’ Dick asked. Eugene shrugged, peering around.  
‘Maybe Luz. He’s doing a gig at the comedy club, he might come out after.’  
‘Hey, lemme see that,’ Web wrestled the drinks list from Lieb. ‘These cocktails are wild. I can’t decide between a Marlene Dietrich and a Mae West.’  
Babe leaned over. ‘Go for the Marlene, unless you wanna get your head blown off. Joe’s got a real funny definition of a “dusting” of cayenne pepper.’

‘So, what’s it gonna be?’  
Bill walked with the same brash shuffle in his step as Babe: perhaps a little more pronounced, although you wouldn’t notice unless you knew the reason why. He and Joe had first met at the rehab centre, where they promptly skipped their physiotherapy sessions to grab a drink together. And the rest, as they say, is history.   
‘Nice place, Bill, congratulations!’  
‘Yeah, it looks great.’  
Bill grinned. ‘Thanks, guys. Joe and me, we really appreciate you comin’ down. You know what you’re having?’  
Lip nodded. ‘Just a beer. Whatever’s cheapest.’  
‘Student life, eh?’ Guarnere patted him on the shoulder.   
Lieb passed Bill the menu. ‘Same for me, and a Marlene Dietrich for the little lady.’ Web glared at him.   
‘Hey make that two Marlenes, and- what you havin’, Gene?’ Babe glanced at Eugene.  
‘A rum and cola.’  
Bill sighed. ‘Two Marlenes, Jesus… you wanna come up and make ‘em yourself, Babe?’  
Babe smirked at him. ‘You wanna pay me for it?’  
‘Not ‘til next Monday, I don’t. And you two?’  
Nix passed the list up. ‘An orange juice on the rocks, and a triple whisky & coke.’  
‘A _triple_ whisky  & coke?’  
Nix shrugged, looking innocently around the table. ‘Yeah, I’m cutting down. Got any food?’  
Bill shook his head. ‘We ain’t got a menu yet, on account of the fact that we ain’t got no chef yet. We got peanuts if you want.’  
‘Nah, that’s okay. Thanks, Bill.’  
‘Comin’ right up.’

Babe slung an arm around Eugene’s shoulders.  
‘That dartboard’s callin’ my name, fellas, anyone else wanna play?’ There was a resounding silence. Babe looked scandalised. ‘Aw, come on!’  
Eugene gave him a sly smile. ‘Your reputation precedes you, Edward.’   
‘We don’t have to play for money, let’s just play for fun, huh? C’mon, one little game of Around the Clock…’  
Lew sighed. ‘Alright, I’ll play, but I want a handicap.’  
Lip slid out of the booth. ‘Same. You can start on one, Babe, and the rest of us’ll start on five.’  
‘Fine, fine… anyone else? Babe jostled Eugene, who rolled his eyes but grudgingly consented. Babe placed a smacker of a kiss on his cheek. Eugene wrinkled his nose and gave Babe a shove, grinning despite himself.   
‘You too, mister,’ Lew laced arms with Dick, pulling him to his feet.  
‘Aw, Lew, you know I’m lousy at darts.’  
‘Yeah, I also know it’s about the only thing in the world you are lousy at, which means I might actually have a chance of beating you. Come on.’  
‘Someone’ll have to stay and watch the drinks,’ Dick began, looking back at Web and Lieb. They were deep in some animated conversation.  
‘Just ‘cause I don’t know what a troglobite is-‘  
‘It’s troglo _dyte_ , you ignoramus.’  
 _‘What did you just call me?!’_  
Lew pulled on his arm. ‘Let’s just… go.’

They made their way over to the dartboard. Dick shook his head.  
‘Those two are something else.’  
The faint sounds of their argument could still be heard over the music. Lip hummed in agreement.  
‘It must be exhausting. But it seems to work for them, I suppose.’  
Lew gave a mischievous smirk. ‘The sex must be unbelievable.’  
‘Ugh, Lew!’  
‘What?!’ He winked. ‘Different strokes for different folks.’  
Dick sighed. ‘I can’t take you anywhere…’ 

Babe had already lined up at the dartboard and hit one, two and three in quick succession.   
‘C’mon, Gene, your turn.’  
‘Alright. Don’t laugh.’  
Eugene took the darts and squinted very long and seriously at the board before eventually taking a shot. The first dart hit the wall behind with a resounding thunk.   
‘Watch it over there!’ Joe yelled from across the bar, barely audible over the sound of Lew and Babe’s laughter. Eugene looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.  
‘Edward!’  
‘Alright, alright, your technique’s all wrong. Here,’ still chuckling sporadically, he stood behind Eugene and put his hands on his shoulders, kicking his feet into position. ‘You wanna be side-on, ninety degrees to the board, like this… now lean forward- not too far- and stretch your arm out…’ Babe’s cheek was almost pressed against Eugene’s, one hand on his waist, the other rearranging his grip on the dart. Smiling, he placed a sly kiss on the exposed line of Eugene’s neck. ‘Perfect.’  
‘Hey, you two! Quit macking and get throwing!’ Lew shouted. Babe stepped back.  
‘Now focus on the five, and point your elbow in the direction you wanna go. Don’t think about it too much, just throw.’  
Eugene drew his arm back and let fly. The second dart hit twelve, provoking a rather shocked whoop from the others.   
‘Woah!’ Eugene turned to Babe, his face lit up in amazement. Babe just grinned.  
‘Gettin’ close! Last one, c’mon… breathe out as you throw.’  
The final dart shot past and straight into the five. The four of them erupted into raucous cheers, surging forward to engulf a rather overwhelmed-looking Eugene in a group hug.  
‘Boys, cut it out!’ Bill and Joe yelled together as half the bar stopped to view the commotion. 

Lew and Lip both played fairly respectably, hitting the mark every couple of tries. Dick was quite simply atrocious. After his third dart went thudding into the wall, dislodging a large flake of paint along with it, Lew put a hand on his shoulder.  
‘Maybe you should sit this one out, Dick. If you don’t end up hitting someone, Joe is gonna come over here and kick all our asses for destroying his nice new bar. Either way, I don’t fancy a trip to A&E tonight.’  
Dick sighed. ‘I suppose someone should make sure Web and Lieb don’t kill each other.’  
Making his way back to the table, Dick could hear that the argument had been forgotten. Lieb was gesticulating wildly with beer bottle in hand, one arm resting on Web’s shoulder.  
‘So she was already legit naked back there, I mean _fully naked_ …’  
Web spluttered into his cocktail, red-faced.   
‘Crazy cab story?’ Dick asked as he sat down. Web nodded, still choking on a lungful of Marlene Dietrich.  
‘…Meanwhile they’re still arguing in fuckin’ Ukrainian or whatever, when one of them gets the seatbelt around the other guy’s neck and starts trying to straight up _murder_ him while I’m goin’ the wrong way up 42nd Street… goddamn, I was cleaning noodles out from under the floor mats for a _month_.’  
Web shook his head, gradually catching his breath. ‘Bullshit!’  
Lieb looked over at Dick. ‘D’you believe this guy?’  
Dick took a sip of his orange juice. ‘Your stories are a little hard to believe sometimes.’  
‘See!’ Web leaned over the table. ‘Do you remember the time he told us he had Mila Kunis in his cab? And we all rushed over to that little café downtown to see if it was her?’  
Dick nodded, laughing. ‘And it was… who was it again?’  
‘That girl from Scary Movie 5, Sarah something.’  
Lieb huffed. ‘Aw, guys, c’mon, that was _one time_.’

They were laughing away when Web froze, staring at the door. The smile faded from his face.   
‘Oh…’  
Lieb frowned at him. ‘What?’  
‘Don’t look now, but- I said _don’t look_ , Lieb!’  
‘What? What is it?’  
Web sunk down a little in his seat. ‘It’s Lip’s weird boyfriend.’  
Dick’s face brightened. ‘I didn’t know Lip was seeing someone!’  
Web nodded. ‘He’s been keeping it kinda quiet. He won’t tell us anything about how they met. The guy’s…’ he paused, glancing furtively upwards, as if anyone could have heard them over the music. ‘Creepy.’  
Dick looked over to the door and saw a tall, dark-haired man: ruggedly handsome, wearing a white t-shirt that fit tight against his lithely muscled form.   
‘Good for Lip,’ he remarked, raising his eyebrows. ‘What’s his name?’  
‘Ron.’  
Lieb snorted. ‘Ron? Is he a porn star?’  
Web kicked him under the table. ‘Babe told me he’d heard of him before. Apparently he got in a fight one night down at Screaming Eagle, out in the smoking area… sent six guys to the hospital single-handed.’  
Dick looked sceptical. ‘I don’t think that can be true.’  
‘I swear! Babe heard it from a guy who does promo work for them.’  
‘Hmm. And I’m sure he heard it from the bouncer, who heard it from the bar staff, who heard it from the guy who cleans the toilets…’  
Web shrugged. ‘He’s still weird. Just wait ‘til he comes over, you’ll see.’

Their game now finished, the crowd at the dartboard were trailing back over to the table when Lip spotted Ron still standing around near the door. Catching each other’s gaze, a quiet smile passed between them. They stayed behind for a moment as Lew, Babe and Eugene took their seats in the booth.  
‘Who’s that?’ Lew asked, squeezing up next to Dick.   
‘Lip’s “weird boyfriend”, apparently.’  
Babe nodded. ‘The man’s a legend. He beat up, like, ten guys one time at Screaming Eagle.’  
Dick gave Web a wry smile. ‘I thought it was six.’  
‘What does he do? Does anyone know?’ asked Eugene.  
Babe shrugged. ‘Lip said he _wasn’t allowed_ to tell us, so I reckon it’s some kinda secret government job.’  
Lew laughed. ‘You think he’s a _spy?’_  
‘Why not?! Why else would he have to keep it a secret?’  
Lieb leaned closer to Web. ‘Maybe he _is_ a porn star,’ he muttered. Web choked on his drink again.

‘Boys,’ they all clammed up as Lip came over, Ron in tow. ‘I’d like you to meet my, uh- I’d like you to meet Ron.’  
There was a chorus of ‘hello’s as the two of them sat down.   
‘Lip’s told us so much about you’, Lew quipped. Dick nudged him sharply, but Lip just gave a shy smile.  
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t wanna say anything too soon.’  
Lew nodded. ‘So, Ron, what do you do?’  
 _‘Lewis.’_  
Ron met Lew’s eyes with an even, unreadable stare. ‘I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind. Anyone else want a drink?’ Everyone shook their heads as he stood up. ‘I’ll be right back then.’  
Dick glanced apologetically at Lip. ‘Lew, don’t be so rude!’  
‘What?! It was a perfectly normal question!’  
‘You obviously offended him.’  
Lip laughed softly. ‘Dick, it’s okay. Honestly. He wasn’t offended, he’s just… like that. He’s different once you get to know him.’  
Up at the bar, the man Ron was standing beside put down his drink and turned away to talk to his friend. Without missing a beat, Ron casually picked up the half-empty glass and made his way back to the booth. Eugene put a hand on Babe’s leg under the table, leaning over to whisper in his ear.  
‘Did he just…?’  
Babe nodded, eyebrows raised. ‘ _That’s_ why all those guys tried to fight him.’

Lieb fished a packet of cigarettes from his jeans-pocket.  
‘I’m gonna go for a smoke.’  
‘Oh, hey, wait five minutes and I’ll come too,’ Babe produced a little tin of tobacco and a plastic lighter. ‘…Ah, shit, I can’t find my skins…’  
‘Here-‘ Lip picked his backpack off the floor and rummaged around, eventually coming up with a thin cardboard sheaf of rolling papers. Ron gave him a strange look.  
‘You don’t smoke.’  
‘No, but my friends do. Here.’ Lip passed the skins to Babe.  
‘Lip’s bag of wonders,’ Lew chuckled. ‘What else have you got in there?’  
‘Just normal stuff: bandaids, gum, painkillers… just stuff everyone carries, it’s no big deal…’  
Lew leaned over and peered inside the bag. ’Oh yeah, normal stuff: a flashlight, a bottle opener… what is that, a sewing kit?’  
‘Hey! There’s no need to stick your grubby paws in there-‘  
Lew pulled out a little plastic packet, turning it over in his hand with a puzzled expression. ‘What the hell…?’  
Lieb banged his beer down on the table in realization. ‘It’s those tiny screwdrivers you get in Christmas crackers!’  
‘Lip, that is not normal,’ Lew said as Dick snatched the packet from him and tossed it back to its rightful owner. Lip stuffed it back in the bag.  
‘I’m studying Mechanical Engineering, they do actually come in handy quite a lot.’  
‘And the rest of this stuff?’  
‘Well, someone has to take care of your drunken asses.’  
‘My drunken ass is already in very good hands, thanks’, Lew grinned at Dick, who coughed into his orange juice. 

‘C’mon, Babe, how long does it take to roll a damn cigarette,’ Lieb complained, draining his beer. Babe was lost in concentration.  
‘Just gimme… one minute…’  
‘Why do you bother with those things anyway?’  
‘They’re better for you.’  
Lieb gave a derisive snort. ‘Oh yeah?’  
‘They are! They’re smaller, and they don’t have all that other crap in them, just pure tobacco…’  
‘And every time you feel like a smoke you’ve gotta spend an hour rolling the damn thing.’  
‘That too.’ Babe licked along the paper and rolled the cigarette between his fingers. ‘C’mon, let’s…’ He patted the table, frowning. ‘Where’d my lighter go?’  
Lieb rolled his eyes. ‘Babe, just use mine, I’m gasping, alright?’  
‘Yeah, but I swore I put it right there on the table just-‘ Babe paused, glancing at Ron. He was conversing innocently with Lip, a suspiciously lighter-shaped bump protruding from the pocket of his jeans. ‘…Maybe I left it at home.’  
They slid out of the booth and headed outside. Lew spun his empty glass on the table.  
‘We should have a couple more then head out.’  
Lip nodded. ‘Sure. Where to though?’  
‘Oh, I don’t know… I was thinking maybe… Screaming Eagle?’  
There was a beat of silence, broken by the very conspicuous sound of Dick’s foot connecting with Lew’s shin. Ron gave them all that same cool, ambiguous stare.  
‘Sounds like fun.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight breaks out at Screaming Eagle (predictably, it's all Web and Lieb's fault).

The floor hummed beneath their feet, pulsating to the music like a vast heartbeat. They were standing in a dimly-lit corridor as Lip checked his bag into the cloakroom. Shadows clung to the bare brick walls, a faint scent of spilled beer and vomit lacing the air. Dick wondered if the rest of them knew what it was like, being sober in a place like this: that all the bright lights and bone-shaking noise waiting for them behind those black curtains never quite hid them as much as they thought.   
‘Shots?’ Lew’s voice tangled with the music, like a figure in a thick fog, barely discernible. Dick let himself be pulled towards the tide of noise next door, briefly dazzled as the curtains parted. He hadn’t thought it could get any louder.  
‘Grab a table!’ Babe yelled to the rest of them, following Lew to the bar. To their left, the dancefloor fluxed and rolled and receded, hundreds of bodies moving together. Roving blue and purple lights illuminated sporadic flashes of faces and swaying limbs. Dick and Eugene traded a silent look of resignation.  
‘Having fun?’ Dick joked, shouting over the music. Eugene shrugged stoically.  
‘At least I’ll be drunk soon, you sure you can stick it out?’  
Dick couldn’t even hear himself laugh.

Babe and Lew soon returned triumphant, bearing drinks and a dauntingly enormous tray of shots. They clustered around the only small table left free. Lip picked one up and inspected it suspiciously.   
‘What are these?’  
‘It’s a surprise!’ Lew shouted happily, provoking a groan from everyone else. ‘Cheers!’   
Dick picked up a glass and sniffed at it as the others knocked back their shots. The aniseed smell of Sambuca was unmistakeable, even to him. He gave Lip a sympathetic pat on the back.  
‘Thanks,’ Lip choked, eyes watering.  
‘Base of operations here, alright?’ Lew patted the table then turned to grab Dick’s arm. ‘And you’re coming with me!’  
Ron knocked back a second shot like a glass of water. ‘We’ll guard the drinks.’  
‘There won’t be any left by the time we get back!’ Babe’s voice was lost on the music as they left Ron and Lip for the dancefloor. 

Lew took Dick’s hand and led him through the seemingly impenetrable wall of bodies, little pockets and corridors of space forming and closing obliviously as they passed. The crowd was like a living thing, sweeping them into the rhythm of its blood-flow. Lew found a space close to the DJ booth and turned to pull Dick close. His dark eyes were glazed, reflecting flashes of purple light, his body swaying to the same rhythm as the dancers around them. Dick felt like a rock being buffeted by waves. Lew pressed against him, whisky-scented breath tickling Dick’s ear.  
‘You look like a bouncer! Lighten up a little!’  
‘I don’t know if this was such a good-' Dick’s reply was cut off by Lew’s kiss, warm and clumsy and reckless. The bassline shook the floor, reverberating in his chest as Lew’s hands guided his hips to the beat. Maybe Dick didn’t know how to dance, but he knew even the very smallest movement of Lew’s body: how to react, how to provoke. His head felt hazy, the sticky-sweet taste of Sambuca on his lips. He swayed into Lew’s space, a tightening flutter in his muscles as he slid a hand along Lew’s waist. The crowd swallowed them as they yielded to its rhythm. Someone’s elbow digging into the small of Dick’s back only pushed him further into Lew’s arms, brief jostles of pain heightening the softness of their own embrace. 

‘Hey, look!’ Lew broke off, laughing, and nodded towards where Babe and Eugene were dancing close by. Babe had downed his drink and thrown the plastic cup on the floor, one ice-cube still between his teeth. He nudged Eugene’s cheek with his nose, raising his eyebrows wordlessly. Eugene smiled and kissed Babe’s bottom lip before tipping his head back, their tongues sliding together, passing the ice-cube between them.   
‘Get a room!’ Lew yelled. Babe flipped them off without even looking, too engrossed in trying to retrieve the ice-cube from Eugene’s lips. They could barely stop grinning at each other long enough to kiss, stumbling out of time with the music.   
‘You’re one to talk’, Dick shouted at Lew, feeling a hand snaking conspicuously up the inside of his t-shirt. Lew shut him up with another kiss. 

People were always asking Dick why he didn’t drink. In truth there was no special reason, he just didn’t like the taste. Then one day, when Lew had been out of town visiting his parents, Dick had found himself sitting alone on their tiny balcony with a glass of wine. The smell was okay, nice even, but he only managed a few sips before pouring the rest down the sink. He hadn’t really wanted a drink, of course. He’d wanted Lew. Dick put a hand on the side of Lew’s neck, running his thumb over his jaw before leaning in again. Somehow it always tasted different on Lew’s lips.   
‘Boys?’  
They broke apart to see Lip watching them anxiously. Dick frowned. ‘What’s up?’  
‘I, uh… think we might have a problem.’  
They followed Lip back out to the edge of the dancefloor, just in time to see Web trying to pull Lieb away by the shoulders as he shouted at a group of guys.   
‘Lieb stayed back with Ron and I when you all went out’, Lip tried to explain over the music. ‘One of those guys was getting a little friendly with Web. I reckon Lieb’s about to lose it…’  
‘You grab Lieb, we’ll get Web’, Dick shouted.   
They made their way over, Lip inserting himself between Lieb and the other men whilst Dick and Lew pulled Web back towards the table.  
‘Okay, Web?’  
‘He only asked to buy me a drink, for Christ’s sake! Why does he have to do this every time…’  
Lew patted him on the back. ‘Come on buddy, let’s go.’

The sudden commotion behind them was audible even over the music. They turned to see Lieb lunge over Lip’s shoulder, landing a punch that laid one guy out on the floor.  
‘Woah!’   
Dick and Lew could only watch as they held onto Web for dear life, trying to keep him out of the fray. The guy’s friends surged forward, faces contorted with rage. One of them tried to grab Lieb by the collar, another pushing Lip violently backwards.  
‘Lieb! Lieb!’ Web struggled in Dick’s grasp. ‘Let go of me!’  
Lip turned and shoved Lieb towards the bar where he tripped and went sprawling, knocking over a line of stools. In the drunken confusion he was quickly forgotten about, but with Lieb out of harm’s way, Lip was met by a forest of raised fists.   
‘Lip!’ Dick let go of Web’s arm and made for the brawl, but too late- one of them caught a lucky smack around Lip’s face then kneed him square in the groin. He crumpled instantly to the ground. ‘Lip!’ Dick ran forward and grabbed him, pulling him out from the tangle of kicking feet. Lip was heavy and limp in his arms, the sting of boots and fists disorienting him. He tugged blindly at Lip’s shoulder, stumbling to the beer-slicked floor. Without warning, the blows raining down on their backs abruptly ceased and Dick found himself out in the open. Wondering what had caused this stroke of good luck, he looked up to see Ron throwing a roundhouse punch that sent one of them flying.   
‘Get Carwood out!’ he yelled, grabbing another by the neck and throwing him into the group that remained, scattering them like ninepins.   
‘Lew! Help me!’ Dick hauled Lip to his feet and made for the exit, but Lew now had his hands full trying to pull Web away from the scuffle.  
‘Where’s Babe and Gene?’ He yelled over the commotion.  
‘Here!’ Eugene appeared suddenly at Dick’s side, pulling Lip’s arm over his shoulder. ‘Let’s get him outta here! Edward, grab Lieb!’  
Web took an elbow to the face and toppled over, allowing Lew to haul him away. ‘Ah! My ankle!’  
‘Put your arm around me, Web, c’mon.’  
‘Ron!’ Dick yelled over his shoulder as they made a break for it.  
‘Okay!’ came the reply, and suddenly they were tumbling out into the corridor and onto the street outside.

‘My backpack…’ Lip groaned, still doubled over.  
‘Keep going!’ Dick urged as they ran down the sidewalk. ‘Don’t worry Lip, we’ll get it back tomorrow. You’re not gonna need your tiny screwdrivers before then, right?’  
Lip made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. After a couple of blocks they slowed down and looked behind them.  
‘Think we lost ‘em?’ Eugene asked.  
‘After Ron, I think they probably ran the opposite way,’ Babe muttered, glancing over to where Ron and Dick were sitting Lip down in a doorway.   
‘Okay, Carwood?’ Ron lifted Lip’s drooping head, running a thumb over the livid red scratch now forming on his right cheek.   
‘…Feel sick,’ Lip mumbled.  
‘It’ll pass.’ Ron raised his other hand to sweep Lip’s fringe away from his face, watching him with that same intense stare Dick recognised from the bar. This time the hard set of his jaw was gone, lips slightly open. Suddenly he looked little older than a boy. He turned to face Dick, who was just quick enough to see that stern mask slip back into place. ‘I better get him home.’ A rough edge now tempered the softness of his voice. ‘I suggest you do the same with those two before they get someone killed.’  
Dick nodded, turning back to the others as Ron called a cab. ‘Web, Lieb…’ He looked around, seeing only Lew, Babe and Eugene. ‘Where’d they go?’  
The four of them glanced dumbly about. Eugene rubbed the back of his head. ‘They were right here…’  
‘Aw, for Christ’s sake!’ Babe sat down on the kerb and began rolling a cigarette. Lew shook his head.  
‘Wherever they are they’d better stay there.’  
Eugene knelt down beside Lip. ‘You alright, buddy?’  
‘Yeah, boy.’ Lip gave them all a shaky smile, a little colour flushing back into his cheeks.   
‘I think we’d all better call it a night’, said Dick, searching for his phone.   
Lew laughed, nodding. ‘I don’t think we’ll be going back to Screaming Eagle any time soon.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Web and Lieb resolve some issues in the aftermath of the bar-brawl. Web reminisces about the beginning of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speirs/Lipton-centric chapter coming up next week. Stay tuned!

After what seemed like hours of sprinting dizzily through the darkness, Web and Lieb collapsed in the mouth of an alley. The oily tang of city air ached in their lungs, each breath tainted with the taste of blood. Lieb stretched out on the sidewalk, panting.  
‘Jesus. My neck hurts.’  
Web leaned against the wall, rubbing his ankle. ‘My leg is fucked.’  
‘You think Lip was okay?’  
‘He got kicked in the balls, Lieb. Trying to save _your_ ass.’ Web picked up a discarded bottle cap and threw it with some force in Lieb’s direction. ‘Why d’you have to be such an asshole when you’re drunk, huh?’  
Lieb scrambled to his feet, still swaying a little. ‘An asshole?! That guy was _all over you!’_  
Web had to hold himself up against a drainpipe as he stood, the pain in his ankle kicking in as the adrenaline wore off. ‘We were in a club, Lieb! It happens! I can take care of myself-’  
‘Oh yeah, I know that…’ Lieb muttered under his breath. Web’s eyes darkened.  
 _‘What’s that supposed to mean?’_

Lieb was still breathing heavily, an ugly-looking bruise welling up on the side of his neck. His knuckles were ragged and bloody. ‘I know it happens. It happens _everywhere we go._ In the club, at the gym, in the goddamn shopping mall…’ The anger in Lieb’s voice trembled and broke, replaced by a tone that made Web’s stomach sink. ‘Every day you meet a fuckin’ hundred guys who’d kill to have you. And one of these days….’  
Web tried to take a step forward, then stumbled back against the rough bricks behind him, pain shooting through his leg. His upper lip was cut, his nose still bleeding a little from being elbowed in the face. ‘One of these days, nothing.’  
Lieb met his gaze briefly, then looked away. ‘You could have anyone you wanted.’  
‘I want you.’ Web trembled with the effort of standing, his voice quiet. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’  
The silence crushed against Web’s chest, ringing in his ears. Lieb was standing in total stillness, his profile a trembling shadow in the low light. Suddenly he turned, closing the gap between them in a few strides and shoving Web against the wall, one hand fisted in the collar of his denim jacket. Web’s gasp of pain as his weight shifted onto his injured leg was cut short by Lieb’s mouth crushed against his own. 

***

Even as a kid, Web had always felt like the tag-along friend: the one who gets forgotten about in the front seat during car journeys. The one who has to walk on the road when there’s no room left on the sidewalk. At college it was just the same. Before they were ever an item, Dick and Lew had always come as a pair. Everybody liked Lip. Everybody _loved_ Babe, and Babe loved Eugene. People like Bill and Lieb had such strong personalities they were sure to make friends, and even if they didn’t, they weren’t the sort to care. Not like him. Luz and Skip were funny guys. Web was only ever the guy who laughed along. Lip and Dick were always nice to him, but then, they were nice people. All in all, he felt… tolerated. Web wasn’t an idiot: he knew he was personable enough, good at sports, attractive. But it was that annoying, too-perfect species of attractiveness that comes from parents who can afford organic food and swimming lessons and a great orthodontist. And semesters abroad. He should never have taken that semester abroad. Returning from Europe with a newfound penchant for smoking cigarillos and a meticulously cultivated Italian twang to his accent, he had hoped to amaze them all with his sophisticated cosmopolitan ways. Instead, he found himself trying to fit back into a group that had gone on without him. The in-jokes had all changed; there were references he didn’t get anymore. Now he couldn’t even laugh along. And Lieb. 

Before Web left, Lieb had resolutely ignored him at every possible opportunity. Web didn’t mind that so much: he just ignored him right back. But when he arrived back home, suddenly everything he said or did seemed to irritate Lieb into paroxysms of rage. At first he thought it must be jealousy: Lieb’s parents could never have sent him to Europe when he was already working two part-time jobs just to get through college at home. So he stopped talking about it, stowed the tiny souvenir bottles of Campari and Limoncello away in the back of a drawer and retired the cigarillos. Still the taunting continued, every time they were together: Lieb picking at him about the way he dressed or the courses he chose ( _“English? What a waste of fuckin’ time. You_ speak _English, for Christ’s sake!”_ ). Even little things, like his messy handwriting or the tiny, faded scar on his forehead from when he’d had chickenpox as a kid. Things nobody else had ever noticed. 

Initially he tried to ignore it, thinking that Lieb would get bored once he’d had his fun. He began to miss the days of walking alone at the back of the group, just listening to the patchwork of conversations around him. Now it seemed that wherever he went, Lieb was by his side, ready with a snide remark or a cutting put-down. Eventually, one day he snapped back with some comment about Lieb’s stupid haircut or the ratty old trainers he always wore with the sole practically flapping off. It felt better than he expected: words rising hot and clean and cruel in his mouth like blood after a fight. Far from shutting Lieb up, however, it seemed to make him ten times worse. They would bicker at each other for hours until Web was trembling and bright-eyed with rage. Sometimes they’d emerge from an argument to find that everyone else had quietly taken themselves home, and that they were alone, together. 

It had been one such night, the two of them sitting by the lake with a mostly-empty bottle of whisky hours after the others had left, when Web had finally asked.  
‘Why do you pick on me all the time?’ The words slurred out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. Realising how pathetic he must have sounded, he clenched his fists, his whole body tense in anticipation of whatever sardonic comeback was about to be thrown his way. He could see the usual glint in Lieb’s eye: the shine of a razor’s edge. Then Lieb looked at him, and it faded, and they were just two boys sitting side-by-side, watching the moonlit lake.  
‘I was angry at you for leaving.’ Lieb’s voice had a drunken lilt to it. He tossed the bottle absently from hand to hand. ‘And then it was the way you looked at me. The way you said my name. You never even talked to me before.’ The jolt of surprise in Web’s stomach became a fluttering warmth, reaching up into his chest. It was typical of himself, he reflected much later, to wait until he was befriended: to assume that he was disliked until someone took it upon themselves to prove otherwise. It had never even occurred to him that there were others who did exactly the same. 

Lieb’s face was soft and scared in the pale light. ‘I wanted to make you feel something. I wanted you to feel something… because of me.’  
Web’s heart was drumming against his ribs. Reaching out, he took Lieb’s hand and eased it from the neck of the bottle. They watched it roll downhill, heard it splash faintly into the water below. Turning to face him, Web pressed Lieb’s palm gently against his chest, feeling the warm weight on his heart. His skin trembled to the beat of his pulse.   
‘Do you feel that?’ he asked. Lieb nodded silently, the tip of his nose almost brushing against Web’s cheek. Their silhouettes merged together: one shadow on the moonlit grass. ‘It’s because of you.’

***

Ever since that first night, they had kissed in much the same way as they fought. Teeth clashed and nipped at fragile skin, fingers leaving red marks that bloomed into bruises. Lieb pushed Web’s head to the side, exposing his neck, letting his hot breath provoke a shiver he could feel thrumming through Web’s body.  
‘Say it again,’ he growled into the crook of Web’s shoulder.  
‘I want you…’ Web’s breath hitched as Lieb began to kiss up the length of his neck, biting gently on his earlobe before whispering against his cheek.  
‘Say it again.’  
‘I want you. I want you.’ Web grabbed a fistful of Lieb’s hair and pulled his head back, kissing him hard. Lieb responded by mercifully pulling Web’s injured leg off the ground, then digging his fingers so tightly into his thigh that he cried out. 

‘You’re mine,’ Lieb breathed into Web’s open mouth, pressing against him. ‘You’re mine.’ He pulled Web’s leg higher, unbalancing him, smiling as he felt Web cling ever-tighter to avoid toppling over. Web countered by dragging his nails across Lieb’s ribs, eliciting an angry hiss. ‘Fuck it,’ Lieb snarled, pulling Web upright by the waistband of his jeans, yanking roughly at his belt. He dropped his head to rest against Web’s chin, swearing again in frustration as he fumbled with zips and buttons. Web looked up sharply, straining his eyes in the half-light. There was nobody around: the only sounds were their own shivering, open-mouthed breaths.   
‘Lieb…’  
‘Shut up,’ Lieb snapped on automatic, then paused, looking up. His lips and jaw were stained livid red with blood from Web’s injured nose. The sharp hunger of his expression faded as he raised a hand to Web’s cheek, stroking the side of his face. ‘Please, shut up.’  
Web let out a breath of laughter that eased into a groan as Lieb slid one hand down the front of his jeans.

‘Hey!’  
A voice pealed out through the alley. They froze.  
‘Keep perfectly still,’ Lieb whispered, still pressed against Web with his hand down his pants. ‘Maybe they didn’t see us.’  
‘Hey, you fuckin’ perverts! Get outta here!’ An old man in his pyjamas was hanging off a balcony two floors up. ‘I’m callin’ the cops!’  
Lights began to switch on in the floors above them. Somewhere, a dog started barking.   
‘Fuck! Run!’ Lieb grabbed Web’s hand and made a dash for it. Web made it two steps before falling on his face.  
‘Ow! Jesus!’   
‘Christ, come on, Web!’  
‘You shameless degenerates! You… You better run!’ the old man was shouting, shaking his fist at them. A window opened a few storeys up and a woman leaned out, holding a crying toddler on her hip.  
‘Shut up, Frank, you old coot!’

Web was still on his hands and knees on the ground. ‘I can’t run!’  
Lieb hurried back and crouched down beside him. ‘Get on my back, hurry up!’   
‘The cops are on their way, you damned little punks!’  
‘Hey! Some of us are tryin’ to sleep around here!’   
Web wrapped his arms around Lieb’s shoulders, feeling a cold slice of air against his backside as Lieb picked him up and made a run for it.  
‘My jeans are falling down!’  
Lieb kept going. ‘You want a bare ass or a night in the cells, Webster? Take your fuckin’ pick!’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron provides an injured Lip with some much-needed TLC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baberoe chapter next week!

‘You don’t have to do this, Ron.’  
‘Yes, I do.’  
Lip and Ron were bundled into the back seat of a cab, Lip still leaning weakly against Ron’s shoulder.  
‘I know you value your privacy and I respect that, really, I’ll be fine going back to my own place…’  
‘No, you won’t.’  
‘It’s okay, honestly-‘  
‘Carwood,’ Ron put a hand under Lip’s chin, tipping his head upwards. ‘Your keys were in your backpack.’  
‘…Oh.’ Lip’s head felt fuzzy. His face was still unsettlingly pale. For several minutes, the only sound was a muted advert for home insurance on the driver’s radio. ‘We could go to a hotel?’ he suggested, his voice faint.  
‘You’re staying in my apartment, Carwood.’  
‘I don’t want to impose-‘  
‘It’s fine.’  
As the cab ground to a halt, Lip wasn’t sure if the jolt in his stomach was a result of the Sambuca, the shit-kicking or the fact that in three months of dating he’d never once even been near Ron’s apartment.  
‘Keep the change,’ Ron muttered to the driver as he opened the door. ‘Come on.’

Lip propped himself up shakily in the elevator, trying not to grasp Ron’s shoulder too hard. On the top floor they shuffled out into the hall, Ron’s arm looped firmly around his waist.  
‘I can walk by myself, there’s no need-‘ Lip’s foot dragged on the carpet and stumbled forward. Feeling one hand dig with a not-unpleasant twinge into his ribs, he glanced up and almost bumped noses with Ron. He’d been watching him intently, his head ducked a little to Lip’s level. A day’s worth of dark stubble masked his jaw and his hair was uncharacteristically tousled. He smelled of tobacco and alcohol. Lip swallowed.  
‘It’s this one.’ He could feel Ron’s voice reverberating in his chest.  
‘Okay.’  
Lip hung onto Ron as he unlocked the door, one hand just resting above the waistband of his jeans. The thin material of Ron’s t-shirt was all that separated Lip’s hand from his skin. Slowly, gently, he drew his fingers into a fist, pulling the fabric up just slightly, allowing his wrist to ghost across a newly-exposed sliver of flesh.  
‘Here we are,’ Ron said as the door swung open, seemingly oblivious to Lip’s machinations. 

‘Uh… wow.’  
The orange-tinted glow of all cities at night streamed in through un-curtained windows. Cardboard boxes towered against the walls. Through the open bedroom door, Lip could see a double mattress simply dumped on the hardwood floor.  
‘When did you move in?’  
Ron manoeuvred him over to the only homely thing in the room- a large suede sofa- and got him settled before turning on the light.  
‘Around the same time I met you.’  
Lip frowned, looking at the television lying dusty and unplugged on top of yet another box. _‘Three months ago?’_  
Ron gave him an amused glance. ‘You sound very sure about that.’  
Lip flushed, leaning back against the arm-rest. ‘I mean… roughly. I guess.’

Ron knelt down beside him, smoothing the hair from his forehead.  
‘How are you feeling now?’  
Lip leaned into his touch, sighing. Ron’s hand was cool and steady against his face. ‘Sore. Drunk, which I guess is helping. Pissed at Liebgott.’  
‘He’ll certainly be sore when I’m done with him,’ Ron growled. A couple of months ago Lip would have taken that seriously. Now he simply shook his head with a soft huff of laughter.  
‘After your floor show at the club, I don’t think either of them will be keen to show their faces any time soon.’  
‘Hmm.’ Ron got up and headed to the kitchen. Lip could hear him clattering about. A heavy, nauseous feeling still cloyed in the pit of his stomach and the couch seemed to sway slightly beneath him. Talking was a good distraction.  
‘You really moved in here three months ago?’ he asked, trying to pick a point in the bare room to focus on, to keep his head from spinning.  
‘I’m not big on home comforts. And I’ve been busy.’ Ron returned with a bag of frozen peas and a damp cloth. He paused, observing Lip with a sagacious glint in his eye. ‘That’s why I didn’t invite you over.’  
Lip’s dawning smile was curtailed by the bag of frozen peas landing on his crotch.  
‘Ah! Cold!’ He sat bolt upright. Ron pushed him back down.  
‘Leave them. They’ll help.’ Lip squirmed a little, but stilled as Ron brought the damp cloth to his face. The warmth and pressure gradually woke a stinging sensation in his right cheek.  
‘Did I get cut?’  
‘Asshole must’ve been wearing a ring,’ Ron replied, engrossed in his task. 

Lip’s eyes fluttered sleepily. He could feel the gentle tide of Ron’s breath moving through his hair. The pain dulled quickly, assuaged by a pleasant flutter in his chest as Ron’s hand moved across his skin, deft and gentle.  
‘You okay?’  
Lip nodded. ‘Mmm. Feels nice.’  
Ron chuckled, low and quiet in the back of his throat. As he stopped to put the cloth down on the floor, Lip’s brow furrowed at the loss of contact. His expression softened again as Ron reached back up, tracing one finger above his eyebrow and down along the length of his jaw.  
‘You’ll live.’  
Lip opened his eyes to find Ron’s face close to his own, etched with that uncompromising seriousness so often mistaken by others for severity. Indifferent to the opinions of others and with little patience for social niceties, Ron could very easily be misinterpreted as a man without principles. He had his own moral code, certainly, and not always one that Lip could pretend to understand, but one thing he could never doubt was the absolute integrity with which Ron followed it. Everything Ron did, he did in earnest. From the first moment, Lip had recognised himself in that. Only those with a wholehearted passion for living take life quite so seriously: Lip because he knew its importance, Ron because he accepted its impermanence. 

‘Ron...’ Lip breathed. Placing a hand on Ron’s forearm, he smiled as the flesh beneath his palm prickled with goosebumps. Ron leaned forward and kissed him, softer than usual, barely a whisper against his lips. Somehow this tender waiting felt more cruel than the normal hard, wolfish glint in Ron’s eye that was Lip’s only warning of the passion to come. Despite his injuries, Lip felt the tension in his chest begin to spread, muscles straining against skin that cried out to be touched. As Ron’s mouth brushed against his bottom lip, then his jaw, then his cheekbone, Lip realised he was avoiding the right side of his face. Tipping his head against the arm-rest, he bared his wounded cheek. Ron paused.  
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’  
‘I trust you.’  
Lip closed his eyes again as Ron’s kiss skimmed hesitantly across his temple, then down further, pressing into the skin of his cheek just below the cut. His flesh throbbed angrily where a bruise would have formed by morning. A shiver of anticipation set the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Turning blindly, he reached for Ron’s mouth. Ron sighed into the kiss, his breath hitching into a growl as Lip’s tongue touched his own. Beneath the usual tang of a drunken night out, Ron’s skin smelled warm and clean and somehow reassuring. It reminded Lip of long summer days back in West Virginia as a kid, dozing on the lawn as his mother hung laundry out to dry: watching white sheets billow into a blue sky. Lip wondered if the smell of freshly-mown grass would forever make him remember this night. 

Unable to reach Ron’s waist to pull his t-shirt off, Lip slid one hand under the sleeve and dug his fingers gently into Ron’s collarbone. Ron relinquished to his touch, leaning heavily into their kiss, grasping at Lip’s hip-bone to steady himself.  
‘Wait,’ he broke off, causing Lip to bite back a disappointed moan. Ron grabbed the bag of frozen peas and dumped it on the floor, then vaulted onto the couch, taking Lip’s mouth roughly with his own. A stinging flash passed through the cut on his cheek, the sick throb of pain in his groin not entirely gone. Ron’s weight pressed down on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.  
‘Maybe not… best idea…’ Lip gasped in-between kisses. Even as he spoke, he was guiding Ron’s hand up the inside of his t-shirt, grasping the back of Ron’s thigh as an enticing warmth coaxed ice-cooled muscles into life. Ron gave him a dark, insatiable look, breathing heavily through flushed and swollen lips.  
‘You trust me.’  
Lip strained helplessly for Ron’s mouth. ‘Yes.’  
‘So trust me.’ Ron’s kiss was hard and bruising, the touch of his fingers delicate on Lip’s stomach as he removed his jeans. Lip closed his eyes and surrendered to that violent tenderness which governed every action of Ron’s life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe gets up early to make Eugene breakfast.

Eugene dreamed in French, the way some people dream in black and white. Growing up in Louisiana, whenever he was upset or sick his mother would sing to him: French lullabies from her own childhood. Perhaps that was why. In the early days he’d been glad of it, when Babe teased him about talking in his sleep. _Je t’aime_. He’d dreamed those words long before Edward had ever shared his bed. As the soft press of the bedsheets became real against his waking skin, he thought at first that the voice he heard must be the last faded memory of a dream. A woman’s voice: his mother’s? But that wasn’t it. Music. 

_‘Tellement sûre, j'étais_  
Tellement sure, j'étais   
de ma nature, de ma jeunesse   
Tellement sure, j'aurais aimé que ça dure, que je reste…’ 

The lazy wail of an electric guitar echoed through the apartment. Eugene rolled onto his back, throwing an arm across his face. Late morning sunlight made the white room glow around him. Beneath the music he could hear the faint rattle of pots and pans; the hiss of the stove cooking. He recognised the song: _Rien de Moi_. Babe must have been going through his record collection again. 

Hauling himself out of bed with a groan, Eugene picked up a t-shirt from the pile of clean laundry stacked on a leather armchair in the corner. Yawning as he pulled it over his head, he shuffled sleepily into the living room. Snafu padded over to greet him, sniffing around his knees.   
‘Good mornin’, lady.’ Eugene bent to ruffle her ears. Straightening up, he could see Babe still pottering obliviously in the kitchen, his hair sticking up in tufts on one side. Eugene had laughed one too many times at his Philly-accented attempts at guidebook French for Babe to sing along. Instead he hummed absently to the music while he worked. A great cloud of steam rose between them as he glanced up at Eugene, who was now leaning against the wall in his t-shirt and blue-striped boxer shorts. 

‘Hey, it’s sleeping beauty,’ he teased, grinning.   
Eugene laughed. ‘Does that make you prince charming?’  
‘You know it.’ Babe waved a spatula at him as he wandered closer. ‘And prince charming says stay outta the damn kitchen!’  
‘You makin’ me breakfast?’  
‘Yeah, and it’s a surprise, so just sit your ass down over there, alright?’  
Eugene stepped into the puppies’ enclosure and opened the French windows. They skittered past him and out into the garden, tumbling about in the grass. ‘You think Lip was okay last night?’  
Babe was stirring something in the frying pan: Eugene could hear the scrape and sizzle. ‘Yeah, I reckon so. Ron seemed more than happy to play nurse anyway.’  
‘I guess we can’t go back to Screaming Eagle no more.’  
‘That joint was dead anyway, we shoulda just stayed at Legless.’  
Eugene turned and watched Babe shaking the pan. ‘So you could beat everyone at darts again?’  
Babe threw him a sly smirk, his skin blooming pink from the heat. ‘Yeah.’

Making a great pretence of studying the bookcase, Eugene wandered closer to the kitchen, sneaking up on Babe by degrees. Babe paid him no attention. Still humming along to the music, he took a clean plate from the dishwasher and turned to place it on the counter. Seizing his moment, Eugene ran up behind him and grabbed him by the waist, wrestling the ever-threatening spatula from his grasp.   
‘Get out of it, you mook!’ Babe was slipping about on the wooden floorboards in his socks, laughing as he tried to wriggle out of Eugene’s embrace. Hooking his chin over Babe’s shoulder, Eugene caught sight of two poached eggs waiting in a bowl of water. The rich smell of hollandaise sauce was instantly recognisable. His face lit up.  
‘Eggs Sardou!’  
‘It’s gonna be Eggs Sar-don’t if you don’t quit foolin’ around,’ Babe grumbled half-heartedly, chuckling as Eugene kissed him on the cheek. Turning to rest against the counter, he leaned in close. ‘You can do better than that.’ His lips brushed against Eugene’s as he spoke, his voice dark and heavy with promise. Eugene felt his body sing in response as Babe’s smile turned wicked. Pressing Babe backwards, Eugene took his mouth in a long, lazy kiss, nipping gently at his bottom lip. Babe gave a satisfied hum. ‘Now lemme finish, or the spinach is gonna burn.’ Sighing, Eugene let go of him.

‘How d’you know how to make Eggs Sardou?’ he asked, taking a carton of orange juice from the fridge.   
Babe tipped the poached eggs onto the plate. ‘I didn’t until this morning,’ he replied, spooning out the creamed spinach.  
‘You’re shittin’ me.’  
Babe rolled his eyes. ‘Gene, there’s this great new thing called the internet…’  
‘Alright, alright,’ Eugene swiped at the back of his head before taking a glass from the cupboard. ‘I just meant… It looks real good.’  
‘Wait ‘til you try it first: Cajun cuisine ain’t exactly my speciality.’ Babe poured out the hollandaise sauce before handing Eugene the plate. ‘If it tastes like crap I’ll make you a Toaster Strudel.’  
Eugene spluttered into his orange juice. ‘Mmm. Haute cuisine.’  
‘Only the finest at chez Heffron.’

Eugene sat down on the sofa, the puppies having requisitioned the space where their dining table usually would have stood.   
‘You didn’t make any for yourself?’  
Babe was busy dumping dirty cutlery in the sink. ‘I got up ages ago, already had my breakfast.’ Ambling over to where Eugene was cutting into the first of his poached eggs, he leaned down and kissed the top of his head. ‘This was just for you.’  
Eugene smiled as Snafu came sniffing expectantly around his feet. ‘None for you, fat dog,’ he said, taking a bite. ‘Mmm!’ the eggs were light and perfect, golden yolk bursting gratifyingly into the spinach and artichoke. The sunny-coloured hollandaise was rich but not sickly, spiked with just a hint of cayenne pepper. ‘Edward, this is amazing!’ he called out. There was a faint reply from the bedroom, where Babe was searching around in the clean laundry pile. A few moments later he returned with a towel.   
‘It’s alright?’ he asked with an air of nonchalance, chewing very slightly on his bottom lip.  
Eugene nodded vigorously. ‘It’s great!’ he replied, through a mouthful of artichoke. Babe grinned.  
‘Well you can wash up, I’m gonna shower.’

As Babe turned for the bathroom, Eugene called out again.  
‘Y’know, Bill and Joe said they were lookin’ for a chef.’  
Babe paused, wringing the towel in his hands. ‘They already offered me the bar job. I start next week.’  
‘It ain’t hard to find bar staff. It is hard to find a guy who can make killer Eggs Sardou on his first try.’  
‘You’ve been looking, have ya?’ Babe joked. Eugene gave him a long-suffering look.   
‘I’m just sayin’.’  
Babe gazed thoughtfully into the middle-distance. ‘Yeah. Yeah, maybe.’

Throwing his towel into the bathroom, Babe pulled his faded grey t-shirt over his head and tossed it through the bedroom doorway, where it landed with a _whump_ in the laundry basket.  
‘Heh,’ he grinned, turning triumphantly towards where Eugene sat finishing his breakfast and watching with a trace of amusement. Babe was slim and lithe, as if his body were not quite finished growing into itself. Not skinny, but lean in a way that betrayed how small and scrawny he’d been as a child. Eugene wouldn’t have recognised him as the wan and wiry little boy who appeared in old family photos, had it not been for that same wise-guy smile. Then again, they say that awkward-looking children become the most attractive adults. Both he and Eugene had been on the cross-country team together in college, and it showed in the firm, spare lines of his body. The skin of his chest was pale and hard and strong, sunlight catching on the soft spread of fair, reddish hair. It was only early spring, but already his face and arms were spotted with freckles. The rest of his body remained unmarked. Eugene thought of pictures he’d seen in the newspaper, of the Elgin Marbles. 

‘Bon appetit,’ Babe remarked, closing the bathroom door behind him. Eugene ate for a few moments in silence, thinking. He remembered those days back in college, running behind Babe, forever fixed on the curves of his lily-white calves spattered with mud. Pretending not to notice the way the tip of his nose flushed pink on cold mornings. Pretending the heat rising in his own face and the skip of his heart were down to the running, just the running. Even then, everyone had called him Babe. What a babe. Half of the track team were in love with him. Eugene never felt familiar enough, never felt he had the right to call him that. 

At graduation they shook hands.  
‘Good luck, Heffron,’ he’d said, thinking: _I’ll never see him again_. It was a sadness, and a relief.  
‘How come you never call me Babe?’ Those impish hazel eyes had watched him steadily as he floundered for an answer that wouldn’t give away too much.  
‘I didn’t know if you wanted me to.’ Babe’s hand was still pressed against his own. Eugene wondered dizzily if he was simply waiting for him to move away. He swayed backwards a little, only to find Babe stepping forward again, into his space.  
‘I want you to.’ Babe’s thumb stroked lightly against the inside of his wrist- but no, he must have imagined that.  
‘Babe.’ The name fit clumsily on his tongue. It felt like screwing up the punchline of a joke. His brow crinkled, making Babe laugh softly.  
‘What?’  
‘Everybody else calls you Babe.’ Eugene didn’t know exactly what he meant, but Babe seemed to.   
‘Call me Edward, then.’ He pulled Eugene closer, their palms still pressed together, and ran his other hand along Eugene’s elbow. ‘But no more of this Heffron bullshit, alright?’  
‘Edward,’ he tried hesitantly, his Louisiana accent rolling over those syllables the way stones are smoothed by the tide. ‘Alright.’

Eugene’s reverie was interrupted by the puppies scampering indoors again. Taking his now-empty plate to the kitchen, he went back towards the French doors and shut them. As the sounds of birdsong and passing cars became muted, he could hear the low hush of running water from the bathroom. When they’d all showered together after training he used to turn away in some corner, or wait until he got home, afraid of what might happen. All that wasted time. Eugene turned and strode towards the bathroom, pulling his t-shirt off and flinging it into the bedroom where it landed a woeful distance from the laundry basket. He kicked his boxers into a corner before opening the door, releasing billows of steam. 

‘Jeez, I’ll be two minutes…’ Babe was facing away from the door, shampooing his hair. Eugene felt a pulse of heat chase through him, pooling slowly in his groin. The water sparkled on the firm lines of Babe’s calves and the backs of his thighs. Clambering into the bath as Babe sluiced his head under the shower’s stream, Eugene placed a hand on the curve of Babe’s hip-bone, his fingers fitting perfectly into the hollow at the top of his thigh. Babe twitched in surprise, then relaxed, leaning backwards against his chest.  
‘Hello.’ Eugene could hear the smile in his voice.  
‘Is this okay?’ he murmured, pressing his lips to Babe’s shoulder blade. Babe turned and pulled him into the warm water. A tremor broke across Eugene’s skin at the sudden change of temperature.

‘The guys are coming round soon.’ Babe’s words were a warning but his voice was an invitation: the familiar rough edge that caused Eugene’s mind to shiver abruptly into darkness. Babe’s hand skimmed along Eugene’s back, drawing them closer together. Eugene could feel his breathing quicken, the warmth flourishing within him and the heat of the water building to an almost unbearable sultriness.  
‘How soon?’ The steam added a rasp to his throat, causing Babe’s eyes to flutter and his lips to part just a little, lush and gleaming. Eugene swayed forward and kissed him, their mouths gliding wetly against one another. A tight, strained feeling twined its way into every muscle, clashing almost painfully with the gentleness of each silken touch. Eugene splayed one hand against the wall to steady his shaking knees. Grinning against his open mouth, Babe reached down between them.  
‘They can wait.’


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snafu's puppies go to their new homes.

‘Hey, it’s Scarface!’ Dick turned to Lew with a shocked expression as they met Lip outside the tube station nearest to Bay Avenue. Lew shrugged, flicking away the stub of his cigarette. ‘Too soon?’  
Lip flashed them a crooked smile as he approached, the scratch on his cheek now shining luridly against a dark flourish of bruising. There was a slight list to his stride.  
‘How’s the injury?’ Dick asked as they made off towards Babe and Eugene’s. Lip ducked his chin and grinned briefly at the pavement, a faint blush spreading along the tops of his ears.  
‘Better,’ he replied softly, pressing his lips together to hide his smile. 

Dick developed a sudden diplomatic interest in the passing apartment buildings. Lew, with his bloodhound’s nose for sexual intrigue, was less considerate.  
‘Ron took care of it for you, then?’ His eyes twinkled as a rosy glow bloomed down the side of Lip’s neck.  
‘Lewis, stop that.’   
Lew huffed, slapping Lip on the back. ‘What?! I’m happy for him, that’s all. Where is Ron, anyway?’  
Lip cleared his throat, sharing a stoical glance with Dick. ‘He’s working.’  
‘So he works weekends...’  
‘Lew.’  
‘And long hours, judging by when he got to Legless last night.’  
 _‘Lewis.’_

Much to Lip’s relief, the interrogation was halted by Lieb’s cab pulling up alongside them.   
‘Well, look who it is,’ Lew muttered, eyebrows raised. Lieb stuck his head out at them.  
‘Get in, will ya?’  
Dick was already turning pale just looking at the cab. ‘Y’know, it’s only one block away, we can probably just-‘  
‘I’m sure Lip would appreciate the ride, limpin’ like that,’ Lieb countered, and after a moment’s deliberation they all hesitantly piled in. Web turned round from the front passenger seat.  
‘Hey Lip.’ He winced as Lip looked up from buckling his seat, revealing his wounded face. ‘Jesus. Listen, we’re really sorry.’  
‘Sorry, Lip,’ Lieb echoed as the cab pulled away. Lip shook his head, smiling.  
‘It’s alright, boys. No real harm done.’  
‘Just save it for when you get home next time, please,’ Dick added sternly. 

Web and Lip mumbled another round of hangdog apologies as Dick watched them from the back seat. As he drove, Lieb placed one hand gently on Web’s thigh, just above his knee. Web hesitated for a moment, then covered the hand with his own, running his thumb along Lieb’s grazed knuckles. His face softening, Dick turned to look out the window.   
‘You guys excited?’ Lip changed the subject breezily. Lew’s expression brightened.  
‘Yeah. You got a name for yours yet?’  
‘Clifford.’  
Lieb cackled from the front seat. ‘Like the Big Red Dog?’  
Lip nodded. ‘Ron thought of it,’ he replied, seemingly oblivious to the sceptical glances this provoked.   
‘He’s a funny guy,’ said Lew.   
Lip chuckled to himself. ‘You have no idea.’

Lieb pulled up beside number seventy-two. ‘Here we are boys, too late to back out now.’  
‘What are you gonna call yours, Web?’ asked Dick as they got out of the cab.   
Lieb ruffled Web’s hair as they walked towards the apartment. ‘I was thinkin’ Jaws.’  
‘Shut up,’ Web gave him a shove, then pulled him close again by the waist of his jeans. Lieb’s hand lingered for a moment longer on the nape of Web’s neck before drifting protectively to the small of his back, watching attentively as Web struggled to keep up with his sprained ankle.   
‘What in the hell happened to them last night?’ Lew murmured close to Dick’s ear. Dick threw him a conspiratorial glance.  
‘I don’t know, but whatever it was, let’s hope it sticks.’

They waited at the door for Eugene to buzz them in. Web turned to Lieb, running a hand down his arm. ‘I thought Mako might be a nice name,’ he said quietly. Lieb smiled.  
‘Whatever you like, kid.’  
Looking up at him, Web lowered his voice again. ‘I want you to like it, too.’  
Dick took one look at them and tactfully started commenting on the weather. Lip feigned a newfound preoccupation with a particular cloud formation above them, whilst Lew continued to smirk shamelessly at the happy couple. Oblivious, Lieb ghosted a kiss across the bridge of Web’s nose, where a bruise from last night’s antics glowed. ‘I like it. I like you.’  
Web blushed and leaned against his chest.

‘Hey, guys!’ Babe leaned out of the front door as they made their way into the hall. His hair was damp and tousled. ‘Come on in!’   
Eugene was just emerging from the bedroom as they all trailed into the apartment. ‘Lip! How ya doin’?’ he asked, ruffling his hair with a towel before throwing it to Babe. Lew spotted a balled-up pair of boxer shorts lying discarded in a corner and cast a knowing glance at Dick, whose mouth quirked almost imperceptibly. Lip took a seat somewhat carefully on the sofa.  
‘I’m fine, honestly. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.’  
A rare mischievous smile passed across Eugene’s face. ‘Well, these ones will need to be neutered in about eight weeks so I’m sure your pup will sympathise.’  
Dick shook his head as the others laughed. ‘You’re worse than Lew today, Eugene.’  
Lew raised his eyebrows in mock outrage. ‘Yeah, what’s got into you?’ Eugene’s cheeks flushed as Babe turned away to hide a thoroughly satiated grin. ‘On second thoughts, don’t answer that,’ Lew added.

‘Alright, you guys ready?’ Eugene whistled for the puppies, calling them back in from the garden. One by one, he and Babe scooped up the puppies and handed them over to their respective owners.  
‘Their vaccinations are up to date so you can take ‘em out straight away: it’s best to introduce them to as many new things as possible when they’re still young, especially kids and other dogs… things like fireworks, traffic, the mailman…’ Dick watched Lew nodding along intently to Eugene’s lecture and felt a warm flutter spreading in his chest. The puppy looked up at him from Lew’s lap, her wet nose twitching. ‘You can come in and get ‘em microchipped anytime, so until then don’t let them off the lead: we’ve taught them some basic commands but they might take a while to get used to obeying new people. They may be small but you don’t wanna have to chase ‘em around the dog park.’

Snafu was lying in the bedroom doorway, her head resting forlornly on her front paws, sorrowful brow eyes flitting around the room from one puppy to the next. Babe sat down on the floor beside her. ‘They’ll be back to visit, baby,’ he said, smoothing her ears. She propped her chin on his thigh, whining softly. ‘I’m workin’ nights anyway, so if any of you fellas need a dog-sitter during the day you can give me a call.’  
Eugene’s face glowed as he watched them. ‘Don’t speak too soon. It’s gonna be nice to have the apartment to ourselves again for a while.’  
‘Happy families, huh?’ Lew joked. The puppy squirmed in his arms and yapped. ‘Hey, darlin’,’ he replied, letting her tug on the sleeve of his jacket. Dick put his arm around Lew’s shoulders and leaned in close, tickling under her jaw.  
‘You two can talk,’ said Eugene, smiling. ‘You got a name for her yet?’  
Dick shook his head. ‘I was going to leave that to Lew.’  
‘We should choose a name we both like,’ Lew replied, half-distracted by the puppy now licking his hand.   
‘I’ll like anything you choose.’ Dick turned back to Eugene. ‘We’ll take her to the pet store now: pick up a collar and a dog bed, all that stuff.’

Over on the other sofa, Lip was rummaging around in his backpack. Lieb laughed.  
‘So you got that old thing back, huh? What you got in there this time, a whole kennel?’  
Lip rolled his eyes. ‘Ron went and got it for me this morning, in case they asked any questions about my face. And not quite.’ He produced a red collar and lead from the bag, much to everyone’s amusement.  
‘Christ, Lip, I was joking,’ Lieb chuckled as Lip let Clifford sniff them thoroughly before trying the collar on. The puppy immediately leapt down onto the floor and started rolling around, trying to free himself. 

‘They won’t like it at first, but they’ll get used to it,’ said Eugene. ‘Just try for a little while at a time when they’re at home: distract them with toys or treats until they forget they’ve got it on. You’ll need to carry the other two for now.’  
‘We’ve got the cab anyway,’ Lieb replied, watching fondly as Web tried to avoid getting licked in the face by Mako.   
‘Could you give us a lift to the pet store, then?’ Dick asked. Lieb grinned at him.  
‘I’m a cab driver, ain’t I?’ Web fended Mako off long enough to give Lieb a kick. ‘Hey!’ Web raised his eyebrows at him and he sighed dramatically. ‘Fine, I won’t charge ya.’

Snafu padded anxiously to the door as they left a few minutes later, sniffing out into the hall. Lew turned and crouched down, letting the puppy take one last nuzzle at her mother’s snout.  
‘Don’t worry Snaf, we’ll take good care of her.’  
Dick felt a warm tightness rise in his chest at Lew’s expression: the solemn way he fondled Snafu’s ears, as if sealing a vow.   
‘You ready?’ Lieb called from the front entrance as Lew straightened up. Dick caught his eye and smiled.  
‘As we’ll ever be.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew at the pet store! The puppy gets a name and a new home.

Lew carried the puppy inside his jacket, close to his chest, as they wandered around the pet store. The shrill cries of birds in their cages echoed around them, mingling with the smell of warm fur and sawdust from rabbit and guinea pig hutches. The puppy snuffled eagerly, leaving red marks on Lew’s neck where she clung onto him with her claws.  
‘Will you cut that out?’ he grumbled, shifting her weight in his arms. She flattened her ears and sniffed at his chin, provoking an indulgent smile. ‘Alright, I forgive you.’   
They followed Dick, who had a basket and list in hand as he weaved his way methodically down each aisle.  
‘You’re spoiling her already,’ he muttered, distracted by a row of training crates.   
‘Don’t you listen to him,’ Lew said to the puppy, who cocked her head and whined in reply. He turned back to Dick, looking up at the crates. 

‘What do we need a cage for? We’re not putting her in a cage.’  
‘They’re training crates. She’d sleep in it. Stops her from messing up the apartment while we’re out.’  
‘Can’t we just train her to not mess up the apartment?’  
Dick shot him a pointed look. ‘And what about when we want some _time alone_ , huh? Do you want her jumping up on the bed with us?’  
Lew feigned an expression of shock, covering the puppy’s ears. ‘Please, Dick, not in front of the kid.’ Dick’s shoulders shook with laughter and a grin spread across Lew’s face. ‘We can shut her in the bathroom or something… we can’t put her in a cage.’  
‘It’s a training crate, not a cage. We’re getting one.’ Dick pulled down one of the flat-pack boxes and slung it under his arm. Lew rolled his eyes.  
‘Old misery guts,’ he muttered furtively to the puppy. She licked him on the nose. 

Dick turned into the next aisle, still reading the shopping list.   
‘We need food and water bowls, a collar, a lead, some toys… do they sell dog food in here? Nix?’   
He looked up to see Lew leaning over one of the small animal enclosures, talking to the puppy as she sniffed warily at a couple of terrified-looking chinchillas huddled in a bundle of straw. ‘Nix! What the hell are you doing?’  
Lew pulled her away as she began huffing with excitement, wriggling in his arms. ‘What? Eugene said to socialise her with other animals.’  
‘I don’t think by “socialising” he meant scaring them half to death.’

Lew grumbled inaudibly, rummaging through a basket of squeaky toys nearby. ‘Hey, look!’ he pulled out a plastic hamburger. ‘It’s a Quarter _Hounder!_ ’ he laughed, squeaking the thing at Dick, who pretended not to know them as the puppy started yapping loudly. ‘Oh, have it, then.’ Lew gave her the toy. She chewed it a few times then promptly lost interest, dropping it on the floor.  
‘Maybe squeaky toys aren’t the best idea anyway,’ Dick ventured, offering her a chewy bone instead. She gave it an approving sniff, watching Dick intently as he dropped it into the basket. 

Lew scanned the next aisle.  
‘I’m gonna go look at the food they’ve got in here, can you take her for a minute?’  
Dick looked at him, shrugging incredulously. ‘Lew, I’ve got my hands full.’  
‘Just leave the crate here, there’s no sense in carrying it around the whole store anyway. We can come back for it when we’re done. And give me the basket.’   
Lew lifted the puppy out from inside his jacket and handed her over. Dick barely had enough time to drop the crate-box before receiving an armful of fluff. She looked up at him, ears flopping comically as her head tipped back.  
‘Hello,’ he smiled. The puppy crooned excitedly in reply, nosing at him.

Dick browsed his way over to the collars and leads. ‘Which one of these would you like…’ he pondered under his breath. The puppy seemed to be greatly enamoured with the soft grey wool of Dick’s sweater, nuzzling her snout into his shoulder. He could feel the tiny, fluttering pulse of her heartbeat against his chest. Leaning down, he picked up a virulently bright purple collar studded with rhinestones. ‘Lew would get you this one,’ he remarked, inspecting it with raised eyebrows. The puppy sighed into his ear, her wet nose occasionally brushing his neck. ‘What about this?’ He held up a baby pink collar and lead set, dusted with white polka-dots. Giving them a cursory sniff, she mouthed gently at the collar then considered him with those huge, tawny brown eyes. 

‘Pink?’ Dick turned to see Lew leaning over his shoulder, a large bag of dog food now taking up most of the basket. He shrugged.  
‘Well, she’s a girl.’  
‘Bit early to be imposing gender stereotypes on her, isn’t it?’ Lew chuckled as Dick rolled his eyes.   
‘We’ll get her a blue food bowl, then.’  
‘Ah, speaking of…’ Lew raised his other hand, clutching two metal bowls. He waved them in the direction of the puppy. ‘You want me to take her back?’  
Dick felt the weight of her chin resting in the crook of his neck. ‘Nah, that’s ok.’

Stopping to pick up the discarded crate-box, they made their way to the sales desk.   
‘I still don’t see why we need the cage,’ Lew said as he put the basket on the counter.  
‘Lew, trust me. We need it. She’s a puppy, she’ll get used to it.’  
Lew huffed, reaching over Dick’s shoulder to fondle her ears. ‘You wouldn’t put a baby in a cage.’  
‘She’s not a baby, she’s a dog.’  
‘A baby dog.’

The girl behind the counter bit back a smile as she scanned their items. Picking up the collar, she paused. ‘Would you like a tag to go with this?’  
Dick and Lew glanced at each other. ‘We don’t have a name for her yet,’ Dick explained.   
‘That’s okay, the most important things are your address and telephone number anyway.’ She nodded towards what looked like some kind of vending machine beside the front door. ‘You put your money in there and it’ll engrave one for you while you wait. Better to be safe than sorry, if she’s not microchipped?’  
‘No, not yet,’ Dick replied. ‘Okay, thanks.’

They paid for their items and wandered over to the engraving machine. Lew set the bags and crate-box against it and peered at the screen.  
‘Look, they’ve got different colours! Aw, we can get one shaped like a bone!’  
‘Hmm, for two dollars extra,’ Dick muttered.   
‘Dick, this thing cost almost _fifty_ dollars,’ Lew replied, kicking the crate. ‘C’mon, think how cute she’s gonna look…’ he lifted the puppy from where she was now slumbering against Dick’s chest. She blinked at him through sleepy eyes as Lew waggled her front paws.  
‘You don’t want a boring old round tag, do you, darlin’?’  
She griped petulantly at having been woken, licking her snout. 

‘Alright, alright, Dick sighed. He leaned over as Lew slipped the puppy back inside his jacket and negotiated the touchscreen. After a few confused minutes of pressing various wrong options, there appeared in the retrieval tray a little silver bone. Dick fished it out and held it up to the light: WINTERS/NIXON, 4 WEST STREET: their phone number underneath. Dick thought of the plaque on the wall at Bay Avenue, and smiled. ‘Come on, let’s take her home.’

***

‘Here we go-’ Lew knelt down and released the puppy into the apartment as Dick brought in the shopping. Dumping the bags on the kitchen counter, he turned to see her nosing curiously at a rumpled pair of socks that Lew had discarded on the floor.  
‘We should have tidied up a little: Eugene said she’s liable to chew on anything she can find while she’s losing her puppy teeth.’  
Lew shadowed her watchfully as she trotted around the apartment, her little black nose glistening as she huffed and sniffed. ‘She’s probably hungry,’ he ventured. ‘You hungry, girl? Huh?’   
The puppy stared up at him and cocked her head. Lew clapped his hands. ‘You want some food? Come on!’ This, she did seem to understand. Yapping excitedly, she followed Lew to the kitchen, weaving in between his feet as he retrieved the two silver bowls and ripped open the bag of dog food. 

Dick looked up from where he was unpacking the crate from its box.  
‘Don’t give her too much: if she takes after Snafu she could eat the whole bag in one sitting.’  
Lew chuckled, filling the other bowl with water. ‘She’s got a long way to go before she’s the size of that old lady. Ain’t that right?’ He looked down at the puppy, her claws tapping on the linoleum floor as she danced impatiently around his ankles. Dick heard the metallic clang of two bowls being placed on the floor, followed by some enthusiastic crunching. Looking up, he caught the flicker of an expression on Lew’s face, the usual harsh quirk of his smile replaced by something fond and soft. It was a look that Dick recognised: a look reserved for lazy Sunday mornings in bed as the sunlight dazzled on their skin. For stolen moments in crowded bars: a whispered in-joke or the touching of hands under a table. A look Dick had seen shared once or twice with Blanche over awkward Nixon family dinners, the two of them flicking peas at each other as their father extolled the virtues of acetate-based polymer materials. Dick’s chest tightened as Lew watched the puppy with that small, quiet smile he reserved especially for the ones he loved. 

‘Come and help me with this,’ Dick heard himself say. The space between them was nothing, but in that moment it felt unbearable. Lew ambled obliviously into the bedroom and folded himself down on the floor with a groan.  
‘Damn thing better have come with instructions,’ he grumbled. Dick stretched out one leg so it rested against Lew’s back, feeling the weight as he leaned habitually into Dick’s touch. Lew’s brow was furrowed as he flipped through the assembly guide. Leaning in as if to read over his shoulder, Dick ran his fingers down the nape of Lew’s neck. Lew turned on instinct and kissed him: light, distracted. How sweet it was; how right and easy.  
‘Well that’s not so hard, it just slots together like this…’ Lew raised the wire walls of the crate and clicked them into place one-by-one. Dick made a pretence of checking each joint, allowing his hand to brush against Lew’s as they worked. 

From the kitchen, the ringing sound of water being lapped from a bowl ceased. The puppy padded into the bedroom, her jowls dripping. Lew made a kissing sound and beckoned with his hand, lying back as she approached. She sniffed at him curiously, placing her front paws on the flat expanse of his chest.   
‘What’s your name, huh?’ he murmured, lifting her up. She sighed and curled against the warmth of his body. A playful glint lighted in Dick’s eye.  
‘We could call her Whiskey.’  
Lew rolled his eyes. ‘Quit being facetious.’  
‘Or what about Lucky?’ He chuckled as Lew shot him a puzzled frown. ‘Short for Lucky Strike?’  
‘Dammit, Dick, this is serious!’ 

The puppy was investigating her way down one of Lew’s jacket sleeves, her ears twitching curiously as she snuffled. Lew moved his hand, smoothing the soft patch of fur between her eyes. ‘What should we call you, darlin’?’   
Those long velvet ears pricked up, still trembling a little under their own weight. She whined quietly, regarding Lew with wide, expectant eyes. Dick gave a huff of realisation.  
‘She recognises that word.’  
Lew turned his head to the side. ‘What word?’  
Resting a hand on Lew’s ankle, Dick whistled softly. ‘Darlin’,’ he called. The puppy’s head turned.  
‘Oof!’ Lew groaned as she scrambled to her feet and bounded across his stomach, straight into Dick’s arms. Grinning at Lew, Dick raised his head to avoid the little pink tongue now darting at his chin. Lew leaned back on his elbows and laughed. The sound was clean and light.   
‘Darlin’,’ he echoed quietly. That smile. 

***

Lew always slept on his left side, his hair flattening into tousled patterns that Dick found irresistible to touch, as if they were made for the trace of his fingers. Every night after Dick turned and switched off the bedside lamp they would curl together blindly, each settling into the other’s body. Following the trail of memory, like desire lines crossing a forest floor. Dick sighed into the crook of Lew’s neck. His hands were made for this: to slide across the hollow line of muscle that ran the length of Lew’s thigh. It made him think of stone steps worn smooth by a century of climbing feet. 

The sleep-heavy darkness was cut by a thin, sighing whine.  
‘Quiet,’ Lew groaned into his pillow. Silence hung tense in the air, then softened as the seconds passed undisturbed. Just as Dick began to stray back into a dream, there came the rattle of teeth against bars and a petulant growl. Lew gave another muffled grunt and stirred as if to get up. Dick pulled him closer, feeling the press of Lew’s back against his chest.   
‘Leave her. She’ll settle down.’ His lips brushed the soft fuzz of Lew’s hair.   
A few moments later there came another whine, louder than the last. Lew kept still this time, but Dick could feel the tension in his wakening limbs. He could tell that Lew’s eyes were open, staring into the dark. ‘Go to sleep,’ he whispered, kissing the curved ridge at the top of Lew’s spine. He heard a sigh, felt the skin under his touch ease and subside. 

For minutes or hours they sank together in the thick, honeyed fog of half-sleep. Suddenly Dick felt himself lurch into consciousness, falling through the dark. His fingers dug too hard into Lew’s waist.  
‘Jesus Christ…’ Lew’s voice tangled roughly in his throat. Dick smoothed his hand compulsively over the place where he’d caused Lew pain, alert now with concern.  
‘Sorry.’  
Lew reached back and ran his thumb over Dick’s knee. ‘Not you.’ 

Dick’s mind fumbled uselessly until he heard again the sound that must have woken him: a sharp _yip_ from the crate, grating against the hushed darkness.   
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ he grumbled, flinching at the gust of cold air as Lew threw back his side of the blankets. Instinctively he pulled the covers back over the empty space, sliding his hand across the mattress to where the heat of Lew’s body was now trapped. Unable to keep his eyes open, he listened to Lew’s voice, surly and imperceptible. He heard the clang of the crate door opening, the skitter of claws on wood. He moved his hand as he felt the mattress dip, creaking under Lew’s returning weight. The skin that touched his was chilled now, rough with goosebumps. Dick nuzzled closer, covering as much of it as he could. His nose brushed against the back of Lew’s neck, the tops of his toes pressed softly against Lew’s heels. 

From the foot of the bed there came a soft _flump_. Something moved over their legs. Dick sighed against the broad plane of Lew’s shoulder as Darlin’ curled up in the hollow at their feet.  
‘That crate cost fifty dollars.’  
Lew’s laughter came in an exhausted huff. ‘Told you it was a waste of money.’ His voice was little more than a breath. There was a pause. ‘We can shut her in the bathroom if you really want.’  
The corner of Dick’s mouth twitched. ‘Maybe I’ll shut you both in the bathroom, finally get some peace around here.’  
Lew’s fingers curled around his own. ‘Maybe I’ll teach her how to smoke in the bath.’

Darlin’ cocked her head in the darkness, confused by the sounds of muffled giggling. Resting her chin on the ridge of Lew’s ankle, her ears drooped, then fell flat as she dozed. The voices mumbled drowsily on, fading slowly into the hush of sleeping breaths. At last, it was quiet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Web and Lieb discuss their future and inadvertently uncover Ron's big secret.

Mako dropped from Lieb’s lap and scampered to the door of the apartment at the sound of keys scraping in the lock.   
‘Hey, buddy!’ Web knelt down and mussed the puppy’s ears before picking him up. Lieb tilted his head back from where he lay on the sofa, resting the book he’d been reading on his chest.   
‘Good day?’   
Web’s hair was stiff and brittle from the salt water, his eyes bright.   
‘Yeah,’ he leaned over and planted a kiss just above Lieb’s eyebrow. ‘You? Who was in the cab today: Obama? Queen of England?’  
Lieb made a petulant show of wiping his face, but the smirk that briefly disturbed the dour lines of his mouth gave him away. ‘You stink of seawater. The pup needs to go out.’

Web began to browse distractedly through a stack of papers on the desk by the window. Half of the day’s last light was blocked out by stacks of novels piled high on the sill, their covers faded and curling in the sun. Shelves of books striped almost every available scrap of wall: a myriad of cracked spines and folded pages spilling onto the floor, propping up the television and hiding dejectedly under the sofa.  
‘Did you get some dog food?’   
Lieb shook his head, watching as Web set Mako down and ambled into the kitchen, opening the fridge.   
‘Didn’t have time earlier. I thought we could go just now. I fed him somethin’, though.’ He gestured to an empty wrapper on the kitchen counter. Picking it up, Web let out an exasperated sigh.  
‘Lieb, you cannot feed a dog on Slim Jims.’  
Lieb huffed, slinging an arm around the back of the sofa. ‘It’s meat, right? Dogs eat meat.’ Mako trotted back towards Lieb and jumped onto the sofa again, intrigued by the noise. Lieb ruffled the fur of his back. ‘You liked it, didn’t ya?’   
Web raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, you can cart him to the dog park in a wheelbarrow when he’s the size of his mother.’

With a brief snort of laughter, Lieb picked up the book from his chest and marked the page. Web did a double-take.  
‘You’re reading?’  
Lieb hurriedly slid the book between the sofa cushions, obscuring its cover. ‘Yeah. I like to read.’ His cheeks flushed a little. ‘ _You_ read all the time,’ he added in a somewhat accusatory tone.  
‘You don’t,’ Web retorted easily. ‘What is it?’ Lieb folded his arms in resolute silence, but Web’s face was already set with a determined grin. 

Mako barked and scurried out of the way as Web threw himself onto the couch, diving straight for the spot where Lieb had hidden the book. Lieb twisted lithely and grabbed hold of his wrists, their legs tangling together as they struggled.   
‘What is it? _War and Peace_?’ Web’s voice was breathless, laughter-stained. Lieb felt a smile break treacherously at the corners of his mouth. ‘ _Das Kapital_? Huh? Tell me…’  
‘Knock it off, asshole,’ Lieb hooked his leg around Web’s ankle, still tender from their run-in at Screaming Eagle. Web yelped and lost focus for a moment: long enough for Lieb to flip him onto his back, pinning him to the sofa. 

The look of pain on a person’s face is so very similar to the look of pleasure. Lieb felt a heavy, wakening lurch inside him as Web’s brow furrowed, his back arching slightly as his jaw locked open.   
‘Okay, I’m sorry.’ Web’s voice was soft: a warm breath against Lieb’s mouth. His body yielded even as Lieb’s grew tense and shuddered.  
‘You will be.’ Lieb meant it to sound dark and threatening, but his voice hitched at the answering flicker of desire in Web’s eyes. Even here, with his fingers pressing bloodless lines into Web’s flesh, with his body locked above him like a cage, Lieb felt himself at Web’s mercy. 

Lost in his own wanting, Lieb didn’t see Web’s glance dart to where the book lay pressed between the cushions. Relinquishing his grip on Web’s wrist to run a hand through his hair, Lieb scarcely had time to recognise the sound of fluttering pages before Web had grabbed it by the spine and rolled swiftly onto his stomach.  
‘Hey! Give that…’ Lieb tickled him viciously, but it was no use. Web clutched the book close to his chest, ducking his head to read the title.   
‘What the…?’

Realising all was lost, Lieb fell back against the other arm-rest with a sigh. He closed his eyes in resignation as Web began to giggle.   
‘Alright, knock it off,’ he groaned, rolling his eyes. Mako tilted his head and whined at them as Web’s chuckling grew into a loud belly laugh. ‘Hey!’ Lieb leaned forward and smacked him smartly across the ass.  
‘Ow!’ Web wriggled into a sitting position and twisted round to face Lieb, who had returned to lying back with his eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.   
‘It ain’t that funny.’

Web’s face was pink and split with a huge grin. ‘ _Garfield: Life in the Fat Lane_? I didn’t realise your tastes were quite so highbrow.’  
‘See, _this_ is why I didn’t tell you.’  
Leaning forward into Lieb’s somewhat reluctant embrace, Web ran his thumb over the dust-jacket, ringed with coffee stains. ‘Y’know, I have the entire collected works of Shakespeare sitting around in here, and you choose to read this? I use it as a coaster.’  
Lieb scoffed, stroking absently along the line of Web’s shoulder. ‘Please, everybody loves Garfield. He hates Mondays; _I_ hate Mondays. What’s not to like?’  
Web nodded indulgently. ‘Some would say that truly great literature is that which explores the depths of the universal human experience.’  
‘Don’t be silly, David. Garfield’s a _cat_.’

Nobody ever called Web by his first name, except his mother, and sometimes Lieb. Nobody called Lieb by his first name either, but at least that was for good reason: two Joes in the group caused too much confusion. Web had always smarted at the use of his surname: the mark of an outsider amongst friends. A doubt forever rankling at the back of his mind. It was ridiculous, he supposed, that he and Lieb still referred to each other as strangers might, even as the smell of Lieb’s skin stained his sheets and their accents tangled into one voice. But then, so much about them was ridiculous. And wasn’t that love? To worry over nothing, to get sad for no real reason at all, to be pretentious or jealous or to forget to buy dog food, and to be thought wonderful anyway? To be loved for who one is: stupid and impossible and perfect. Web propped his chin against Lieb’s shoulder, buoyed by a sudden flush of courage.

‘I went by your apartment after work.’  
He felt Lieb stiffen. ‘Oh yeah?’  
‘Yeah. The landlord called yesterday. He’s had complaints about… noises.’  
‘What kinda noises?’  
‘I could hear rustling in the kitchen, behind the skirting board. I think there’s something living in there. And there’s milk in the fridge that’s gonna owe you rent money if it’s left in there much longer.’ 

The joke tumbled awkwardly into silence.  
‘I’ll deal with it.’ Lieb’s voice seemed far away, though Web could feel it in his chest.  
‘It would make so much more sense if you’d just-‘  
Lieb cut him off with a groan. ‘Web, how many times have we been over this? I need my own space.’  
Web sighed. His face felt hot. ‘You’ve slept here every night for the last five months.’  
‘I just need to know that it’s there.’  
‘In case this doesn’t work out?’

The words shocked him. They felt unbidden: icy in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut, waiting for Lieb to throw him off, to shout, to storm out of the apartment. He felt a long, slow breath against his forehead.  
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’  
The crushing weight in his chest was not lifted. A swift, unpleasant heat crept along the back of his neck. Web pressed on blindly, his voice stumbling.  
‘We’ve been together for four years now. Bill and Joe have been a couple for longer than us. Dick and Lew lived together even before they…’ he paused to take a steadying breath. ‘And now Babe and Eugene. They didn’t even start dating until after graduation. I just feel like we’re being… left behind.’  
Lieb sighed. ‘So that’s why you wanna do it? Because everyone else is?’  
‘No! No.’ His words felt clumsy and thick on his tongue. Tears threatened behind his eyes. ‘I just… you asked me the other night, to say that I want you. And I do. I want you. But now I need to know that you want me. I need to know that you see a future for us: one that doesn’t need an escape plan. Otherwise, what the hell are we doing here?’

There was a long silence. Several times Lieb took a breath as if to speak, then let it fade into nothing. Web brushed fiercely at a stray tear that clung to his eyelashes. At last, from above him came Lieb’s voice, whispered into his hairline like a kiss.   
‘We drive each other crazy,’ he began. Web gave a damp huff of laughter, but Lieb hushed him, tightening his grip on Web’s arm. ‘We do. It’s just a fact. And maybe couples like Dick and Lew look at our lives and thank their lucky stars that they ain’t us. But if changing the way we are meant changing you…’ Lieb’s thumb pressed into Web’s cheek, tipping his head back until their eyes met. He shook his head. ‘People don’t get angry over things they don’t care about. I kept the apartment because I need to know that we can be angry at each other: that we won’t stop fighting because we have to share the same bed, or because it’s too much work to stay pissed at someone when you’ve gotta get the goddamn grocery shopping done. I need to know that we won’t stop caring enough to drive each other crazy sometimes.’ Lieb swept away the wetness around Web’s eyes. ‘And you’re right, we ain’t like Dick and Lew, or Babe and Gene. But I don’t think I wanna be. I wanna be us.’

Web sniffed and rubbed his face against Lieb’s t-shirt. ‘Well,’ his voice was thick, ‘when you put it like that...’   
Lieb’s smile set warm fingers of sunlight clasping around his heart. His skin felt tight and salt-burned as the last streaks of tears dried away. Lieb rolled him onto his back, gently this time, looping his arms around Web’s waist.   
‘We better go buy some dog food, huh?’ He kissed the tender hollow of Web’s cheek, then turned and nodded at Mako. ‘We can take him with us, he needs a walk.’  
Web nodded, reaching up to catch the sharp curve at the edge of Lieb’s mouth. ‘Maybe we should set him loose in your apartment, see if he makes a good mouse-catcher.’  
‘Oh, what, so he ain’t allowed to eat Slim Jims but a _mouse_ is A-Okay?’ Lieb punctuated each word with a kiss, tickling the exposed flash of skin where Web’s t-shirt had rucked up along his ribs. 

Sensing a game, Mako bounded up onto the sofa and entangled himself in their feet, grabbing hold of Lieb’s shoelaces and tugging with a growl.   
‘Hey!’ As Lieb twisted round to shake the puppy off, Web took his chance to pounce forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. Misjudging his own strength, he pushed Lieb off the sofa entirely, the three of them landing with a bang in a tangled heap on the floor. ‘Jesus…’ Lieb groaned, clutching the back of his head. Web just lay there with the wind knocked out of him as Mako barked incessantly, stumbling over their legs.   
‘On that note,’ he gasped eventually, ‘I reckon we should go before we cause each other any more injuries.’  
Lieb propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over, pressing a long, lazy kiss into Web’s mouth. He smelled like the sea. Lieb felt himself roll into the swell of Web’s body against his.  
‘In a minute,’ he whispered. 

***

Mako trotted down the sidewalk, his collar jangling faintly to the beat of his paws, snout pressed resolutely to the ground as he followed a particularly interesting trail of scent. Occasionally one fluffy black ear cocked backwards, picking up the stream of conversation behind him. Web’s shoulder brushed against Lieb’s as they walked, Mako’s lead slung around his wrist.   
‘I just don’t think they’re gonna sell mouse-traps in a pet shop, Lieb.’  
‘Well they sure as hell ain’t gonna have ‘em in 7-Eleven either, are they? It’s an _animal-related product_ , where else are they gonna be?’  
‘I think as a general rule, pet shops tend to be _against_ the brutal killing of animals.’  
‘You can get humane ones now: catch and release the little mouses.’  
‘Mice.’  
‘It should be meece.’  
‘Like goose and geese?’  
‘Makes more sense, don’t it?’

Their good-natured bickering was interrupted as the smile suddenly vanished from Web’s face. Grabbing Lieb’s arm, he shoved him into a nearby doorway.   
‘Web, what the hell-‘ Lieb was cut off by the brick wall slamming into his back. Alarmed by the confusion, Mako bounded over and stood with his front paws balanced on Web’s thigh, looking up at them intently.   
‘Look! Over there!’ Web hissed, motioning around the corner. Turning to peer cautiously across the empty street, all he could see were some stuffy-looking boutiques and, nestled amongst them, a patisserie. Rows of tiny cakes gleamed in the display window. Even from their hiding-place Lieb could see swirls of vivid-coloured icing, topped with dainty slices of fruit that glistened succulently, or chocolate ganache shining like burnished glass. The striped pink-and-white sign above read _Patisserie Brécourt_. He turned back to Web.

‘It’s that pastry place Lip was talkin’ about, right? So what?’  
‘Look inside!’ Web urged, still clinging to his sleeve. Lieb regarded him quizzically for a moment but obliged, leaning out again to watch the shop. It was past dusk and the streetlights had just flickered on overhead. With the orange glare reflecting off the window Lieb could see nothing behind the front display, except perhaps the shadow of a figure moving in the dark. He shook his head.  
‘It’s not even open, Web, what are you-‘ as he spoke, a light suddenly flipped on inside the shop, flooding the place with a warm golden glow. Lieb’s jaw fell open as he darted back into the doorway, turning again to see his own expression mirrored on Web’s face. ‘ _It’s Speirs!_ ’  
Web nodded, wide-eyed. ‘What the hell is he doing in there?’ His face fell, remembering stolen drinks and Babe’s mysterious missing lighter. ‘Is he _robbing a cake-shop_?’

Shuffling furtively out of the shadows, they peeked across to see Ron standing behind the counter, a pale smudge of flour dusting his cheek. He was wearing an apron.  
‘He works there?’ Lieb whispered, his brow furrowed. Web shushed him absurdly. As the truth hit them, Lieb couldn’t help but let out an illicit snuffle of laughter. ‘Lew is gonna fuckin’ die when he hears about this. And Babe!’ Web slapped his arm, now giggling himself. ‘Babe thought he was a Secret Agent!’ Lieb bit into the back of his hand to stifle the peals of mirth bubbling in his throat. Anxious to join in the fun, Mako began to bark loudly.  
‘Shit!’ Web yelped as Ron’s head snapped up at the sudden noise. Huddling back into the darkness, they placated Mako with a belly-rub, still stifling each other’s laughter. ‘Check if he’s still looking,’ Web urged.  
Lieb shook his head vigorously. ‘You check!’  
‘Okay, okay, let’s just make a run for it. On three?’  
‘One… two… three!’  
They bolted from the doorway, sprinting back the way they had come, Mako scampering at their heels.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lip remembers the first time he met Ron, with cameo appearances from Skip Muck and Kitty Grogan.

‘Did they see you?’  
‘They saw me.’  
‘Do they know you saw them?’  
‘I doubt it.’

Lip was sitting across from the counter, the table in front of him laden with crumb-covered textbooks and an empty plate. He looked up at Ron, who had returned to cleaning the display cases.   
‘I’m sorry. If it was anyone else I’d say we could convince them to keep quiet about it, but Web and Lieb…’ he sighed. ‘I think your cover is well and truly blown.’  
Ron shrugged magnanimously, with a softening of his expression which Lip had come to read as a smile. ‘They’re your friends. They had to find out sooner or later.’  
There was something in the way he said it that caused Lip’s heart to startle in his chest. The casual assumption that later implied: that the future would be littered with moments like this one. Not his future, but theirs. 

Lip stood and picked up his plate, placing it through the hatch that led to the kitchen. Ron was now polishing the counter-top. Lip swayed backwards as he passed by, brushing gently against him as he worked. The absence of Ron’s skin tingled on his palms. He imagined grabbing the belt-loop on his jeans, pulling him forward into a kiss: the duster in Ron’s hand falling forgotten to the floor. A thin, persistent scar of doubt kept him still. 

He didn’t pretend to always understand Ron: the pastry chef with a penchant for bar brawls, the bizarre but mostly harmless tendency towards kleptomania. He _did_ know enough now to recognise the grim, unfathomable aspect of his nature for what it was: not a mask or a shell hiding the ‘true self’ beneath, but a part of him like any other. Like the furrow of his brow as he read, or the effortless slide of muscle as he slipped a shirt across his naked back. He cared for Ron not despite of these things but because of them. Still, three months is not so very long a time, and although Lip believed that his own rather contrary refusal to let Ron intimidate him had been one of the first things to spark Ron’s attraction, he would admit- albeit grudgingly- to being somewhat in awe of the man. 

‘Almost finished,’ Ron called from the kitchen, where he was rinsing Lip’s plate. Lip went to collect his books, shaking little fractures of chocolate ganache from between the pages. He checked his watch and, with a start, realised it was nearly eight o’clock.  
‘It’s a lot of work, this place, huh?’ he remarked with raised eyebrows. Ron, just visible through the serving hatch, laughed humourlessly.   
‘That’s what I get for doing a Masters in Classics.’  
Lip nodded. ‘Hmm. Vocational.’ He grinned and dodged swiftly as a well-aimed washing-up brush launched from the hatch in his direction and clattered to the floor. ‘Missed!’

‘Bring it back in here, would you?’  
Picking up the brush, he sauntered into the kitchen. Ron, still standing at the sink, flicked some water at him with a smirk.   
‘Hey!’ Lip shrank back, then lobbed the brush straight into the soapy foam so Ron was thoroughly splashed. Continuing unflustered, he tossed a glance in Lip’s direction.  
‘You’ll pay for that later.’ His voice was coarse and rich: a rumble in his chest. Lip felt his pulse quicken.  
‘I should hope so.’

***

The quiet roar and hush of cars passing outside was the only sound in the darkened room. Beams of passing headlights blazed and faded through the curtains, drawing brief patterns of light on the ceiling. Lip passed his hand lazily across Ron’s ribs, counting each rise and fall. A chill passed across the nape of his neck where his hair was still damp with sweat. His chest ached with the memory of hard breaths, his throat rough with Ron’s name. 

‘What are you reading?’ he muttered sleepily. The soft white glow of Ron’s Kindle sliced through the dark beside him.   
‘ _The Symposium_. Plato.’  
‘You were reading that the day we met.’ Lip smiled, remembering. “The true purpose and nature of love”.  
Ron hummed in assent, his hand tracing absent-minded patterns on Lip’s back. ‘I thought that made for a fairly respectable pick-up line.’  
Lip chuckled softly. ‘You could almost say it’s… _a classic_.’   
Ron groaned and poked him in the ribs. 

Behind Lip’s closed eyes, half memory and half dream, swam an image of the university library the day he’d first met Ron. Waiting at the withdrawals desk with a copy of _Advanced Computational Geometry_ slung under his arm, he’d watched through the glass doors as a tall, athletic figure flicked the stub of a finished cigarette into the street, his dark sweep of hair ruffled Byronically by the wind. As the withdrawals queue shuffled forward another painstaking inch, Lip looked away. From the corner of his eye he saw the man make his way into the foyer, take a quick glance at the security guard snoring into his newspaper, and vault clean over the security gates. 

Perhaps it was the confidence in his brisk stride- or more likely the hard, broad lines of his shoulders and jaw- but none of the library staff raised even a flicker of alarm. Milling crowds of students parted before him on instinct: his path forever clear. Heedless of Lip’s increasingly overt staring, he marched through the lobby with his eyes fixed straight ahead, disappearing into the ground floor elevator.

‘Unbelievable, right?’  
Lip turned with a start, wondering how obviously and for how long his mouth had been hanging open. Skip Muck slapped him heartily on the back, ignoring the dirty looks being thrown his way from the rest of the queue he’d just jumped.   
‘Skip! Studying hard?’ Lip grinned, turning to shake his hand.  
‘Well, nobody told me, but apparently you only get to re-sit _two lousy years_ in this place,’ Skip rolled his eyes theatrically, then flashed Lip his trademark goofy smile. ‘So looks like it, yeah!’  
Lip shook his head, laughing. ‘Is that your recommended reading?’ He pointed down to the book in Skip’s hand. The cover read _German for Dummies_. Skip waggled his eyebrows at him.   
‘Better late than never, right?’ 

He paused to wave at a petite blonde girl carrying a stack of Elementary Teaching books to the self-scanner. Her answering smile was distracted but sweet, her fair curls beginning to frizz with the stress of impending assignments.   
‘Harry’s girl, Kitty,’ he informed Lip, leaning against the desk. ‘Her and Faye are best buds now, apparently.’  
Lip regarded her again, more carefully this time. ‘So _that’s_ her.’ 

Lip, like everyone else in Harry’s acquaintance including his barber, his dentist and every single person who caught the same bus as him in the morning, had heard a great deal about Kitty Grogan. Of course, no mortal woman could ever hope to live up to Harry’s endless florid soliloquys concerning the saintly perfection of her every smallest habit: _“no but seriously guys, she does this thing when she laughs- no, goddammit, listen- this thing where she crinkles her nose, it’s honestly the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen…”_

Lip could indeed see she was beautiful, in that isolated way with which a person recognises the skill and craft put into a painting they don’t much care for. In confused and lonely days gone by he had mistaken this type of appreciation for affection: had saddled the occasional obliging girl with the tepid affections he took for love. Still, in the tilt of Kitty’s lips and the soft lines of her face he felt a kind of second-hand emotion. He supposed that through Harry’s stories, all of them had come to love her a little. 

Trust Skip of all people to know Kitty. He was as well-connected as one would expect from a guy who partied so hard he was now totalling his sixth consecutive year of study for what was intended to be a four-year-long college course. With this in mind, Lip decided to exclaim in what he imagined was a casual and disinterested way.   
‘Oh, so did you know that guy who jumped the barrier?’   
Skip considered him for a moment, then to Lip’s relief, merely shrugged.  
‘He comes in here all the time, takes up like two whole booths in the silent study floor.’  
‘But he’s not a student?’  
‘I think he used to be.’

Finally finding themselves at the head of the queue, they handed their books over to be scanned. Lip frowned ponderously.   
‘But why does nobody stop him?’  
Skip shrugged. ‘I heard once that someone reported him to security and he dropped their laptop outta the twelfth-floor window.’   
‘No.’ Lip almost dropped his backpack as he added _Advanced Computational Geometry_ to its already leaden weight.   
‘Then again, I also heard that this place is haunted by a freshman who got swirlied to death in one of the toilets for some frat initiation ritual, so who knows.’ Laughing, Skip tugged at his arm. ‘I’m gonna grab some lunch, you coming?’  
Lip eyed him incredulously. ‘So that was your morning’s work? Withdrawing one book?’  
Skip broke out the grin again. ‘I’ll get a Pilsner and a Bratwurst, it’s practically revision!’  
‘It’s practically eleven A.M.’ 

Shaking his head, Lip watched as Skip jogged to catch up with Kitty, who was struggling to negotiate the foyer doors with her enormous bag of books. Waving to them as they left, he turned and made his way to the elevator. Term had just started back and the library was busy: the lower floors would be full of carefree first- and second-years checking Facebook every five minutes and listening to their music too loud. For Lip, it was straight back to work. He thought for a moment. The silent levels usually didn’t fill up until later in the day, and he did have an awful lot to be getting on with. As the doors closed, he pressed 12. 

***

Rain smurred across the library windows, transforming the cityscape far below into some Impressionist painting: Monet’s _Houses of Parliament_ , Lip thought. Its soft, insistent tapping provided a relief from the silence clenched tight in the air above rows of bowed heads. Each desk was separated from the others by partition screens, locking every student in their own private pool of quiet, cloistered by tall rows of bookshelves. 

Forcing his attention back to the pages in front of him, Lip began re-reading the chapter on Delaunay triangulation. The words seemed to slide and jar against each other like oil and water, slipping uselessly through his consciousness. His stomach growled, suffering acutely from a lack of Pilsner and Bratwurst. Skip would have finished lunch long ago and, knowing him, made his way through supper and several revision-break snacks on the way to dinner. Lip hadn’t had anything since breakfast. 

There was a canteen downstairs, but by this point in the day it was likely to have been pillaged of everything but stale egg-salad sandwiches and perhaps the very last congealed scrapings of what had once been lasagne. Besides, leaving a desk for any more than thirty minutes rendered it fair game to anyone who happened to be looking for a place. During exam time it was necessary to arrive before eight in the morning to have any hope at all of finding a seat, but even at the beginning of term you’d be lucky to find somewhere free by this late in the afternoon. There were a couple of people wandering the twelfth floor now, drifting ghost-like through silent channels of desks, peering anxiously over the partition walls in search of somewhere to work. The vending machine in the hall outside was probably his only hope. Wincing at the scrape of chair-legs on the carpet, Lip got up and made his way out into the stairwell. 

As the doors closed behind him, the relative clamour of the deserted landing washed over him, breaking with relief the terse noiselessness he’d left behind. Faint echoes of voices from several floors below floated dizzily upwards: a girl crying on the phone; a muttered discussion in French. The vending machine emitted its luminous hum in one corner, its black ribs virtually bare. Lip’s change clattered raucously into the slot. He winced as the machine vented a rusty, dying shriek before dispensing one battered-looking Hershey bar. 

Food wasn’t allowed in the silent levels, so Lip sat on the staircase as he ate, the sweet scent of chocolate briefly masking the odour of linoleum and cold stone. Outside the wind had picked up, keening plaintively, buffeting against the windows. Strange creaks and moans ran through the building like tremors through an old ship. After five minutes or so Lip felt the fuzziness at the corners of his mind begin to fade. If he could just finish this chapter it would be a good day’s work: he could go home, get some proper food. Crumpling the empty wrapper into his jeans pocket, he made his way back into the room. 

For a moment, as the doors behind him creaked just loudly enough to provoke one or two frazzled glares in his direction, Lip wondered if he’d somehow re-emerged on the wrong floor. Just ahead, where his empty seat should have been waiting, he saw a man sitting with his feet propped up on the desk. A thick tousle of dark hair fell into his eyes as his head dipped, engrossed in the book sitting open on his lap. Confused, Lip almost turned around and walked straight back out into the corridor, until he saw the heap of belongings now lying on the floor under the desk: a jacket that looked very familiar, and on top of it, a copy of _Advanced Computational Geometry_. 

The disoriented flip of his stomach turned to a prickle of anger. He’d been gone for barely five minutes and this joker- a freshman, no doubt- thought it was okay to just go around stealing other people’s seats. He could see from here that his book had been tossed carelessly to the floor, some of the pages now rucked and crumpled under its own weight. If the returns clerk noticed that, _he’d_ be the one having to pay for defacing university property. He shook his head, striding over to the seat-thief.

‘Excuse me,’ he whispered, ‘I was sitting here.’  
‘And I was enjoying my book,’ the man replied without so much as looking up. His voice was muffled by the unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. ‘Now we’re both dissatisfied.’   
For a moment, Lip found himself lost for words. He scoffed incredulously.  
‘Look, maybe you’re new here and nobody’s told you yet, but the library is here for everyone to use, not just you. We should all be considerate enough of other people to follow the rules.’ 

Around them, heads were beginning to turn. The girl in the booth next to Lip’s tapped her pen on her notepad and threw him a pointed glance. He ducked his head until it was level with the partition, lowering his voice to barely more than a breath. ‘I understand if you just made an honest mistake, but I really need this seat back.’  
Long seconds of silence passed, eventually broken by the dry whisper of a page turning. He’d gone back to reading his damn book!   
‘Finders keepers.’  
Lip felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. ‘You didn’t _find_ it! You _stole_ it! My stuff is _right there!_ ’  
 _‘Shut up_!’ someone hissed from the other side of the room.  
‘You shouldn’t talk in the silent level,’ the man in Lip’s seat observed drily. ‘Not very considerate of you.’  
‘Look, you-’

Lip froze as the man finally looked up at him. Lost in a fog of revision and distracted by hunger, he’d forgotten all about the barrier-jumping incident that morning. He hadn’t even recognised the lean figure; the glossy black hair swept over his forehead.   
‘You’re not even a student here!’ Lip spluttered. At close quarters now, he could see stubble shadowing the strong line of his jaw. One hand rested on the splayed pages of his book. Lip could feel the strength of that hand just by looking at it: its sinews pulled tight, tense beneath the skin. His heart quickened a little as he remembered Skip’s stories. He straightened up, chest puffed out, stubbornly ignoring the pit of nerves in his stomach. 

‘Well, I don’t have a laptop with me, and that isn’t my book, so what are you gonna do? Throw _me_ out the window?’  
The man gave a short huff of amusement, fixing Lip with an inscrutable stare. An image flared suddenly, unaccountably in the back of Lip’s mind: a snake hypnotising some poor rodent with its gaze, considering lazily when to strike.   
‘Where did you hear that story?’  
Lip was silent for a few seconds. ‘A friend,’ he relented.  
‘And where did he hear it?’  
‘I don’t know. From someone else.’ He smiled triumphantly. ‘So it’s not true.’  
‘I didn’t say that.’  
‘Then it _is_ true?’  
‘I didn’t say that either.’  
‘You don’t say much of anything.’

Lip wasn’t arrogant by nature. He knew his own abilities, knew he could hold his own in a fair fight. The problem was, he couldn’t quite make out what rules this new opponent played by. And even as his heartbeat stuttered loudly in his ears, some small and secret part of him relished the thrill that always came with fear. White knuckles on roller-coaster rides; horror movies watched from behind the sofa as a child. Firecrackers on the Fourth of July: a beauty that burned to the touch. He could take his things and leave if he wanted. He’d been planning to leave soon anyway, and he could easily finish his notes on that chapter at home. It was the principle of the thing that irked him. He imagined Kitty quailing under that formidable stare, having to gather up her pile of books and wander dispossessed around the halls. It wasn’t right. 

‘Are you going to call security?’ the man asked, disinterested. Lip shook his head.  
‘No.’  
As dirty looks and increasingly loud, exasperated sighs were thrown in their direction, a plan began to take shape in his mind. Leaning against the desk, he folded his arms and peered down at the book.   
‘What are you reading?’  
The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘ _The Symposium_ ,’ he replied cautiously. Lip nodded as if he had read it himself.  
‘What’s it about?’  
‘The true purpose and nature of love. According to Plato, that is.’

Lip wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Certainly not that. The enraged muttering around them continued. ‘Was he an expert, d’you think?’  
‘On philosophy?’  
‘On love.’   
The man was watching him with an expression akin to amusement. Lip’s heart gave a treacherous jolt as he fought to keep his face blank.  
‘Plato believed that philosophy itself was a form of love: the love of wisdom.’  
‘It takes a man truly confident in himself to admit to needing advice on the subject of love.’

This elicited a wolf-like flash of teeth; a sharp laugh.   
“It is the eldest and noblest and mightiest of the gods; and the chiefest author and giver of virtue in life and of happiness after death.” His eyes were faint blue muddied with flecks of hazel. His voice was gravelly, like the feeling of cigarette smoke, hot in one’s throat. ‘Love is the most powerful force in the world, when directed towards its true object.’  
Lip found he was watching the man’s mouth as he spoke. He felt himself sink into that voice, pouring slow and sweet as molasses, snaring all attempts to come up with some pithy reply. He swallowed.   
‘And what is that?’  
Long seconds of silence throbbed in the air. Something sparked and smouldered behind the man’s cool, level gaze. For a moment, his eyes dragged leisurely down the length of Lip’s body.   
‘Beauty,’ he replied, looking straight into Lip’s eyes. He felt heat rise along the back of his neck. 

‘Excuse me-’ with a start, Lip turned to see an occupant of one of the window-booths standing up, her face red with annoyance. ‘Would you two mind taking your sexual tension elsewhere? The rest of us are actually trying to work.’  
Lip’s plan, which he had admittedly rather forgotten about by this point, had worked perfectly. Whether this man could take Lip in a fight he wasn’t sure, but he doubted very much that even Hercules himself could have stood up to a whole room full of enraged students with impending essay deadlines. To Lip’s surprise, he simply stood up without a word of protest and made for the door. Lip stared after him until he stopped, looking expectantly over his shoulder.  
‘You coming?’   
Lip’s mouth hung open. The man raised an eyebrow in invitation. ‘We can continue the debate if you’re interested. In a slightly less… academic context.’

Lip liked to think that he hesitated, but where that copy of _Advanced Computational Geometry_ ended up after he left it on the floor in his haste was anybody’s guess. Given the circumstances of its disappearance, he paid the hefty Loss  & Damage fine with a smile on his face.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe's obsession with crappy paranormal reality shows causes some friction when he and Eugene receive a spooky phone call.

_‘Coming up next on Spirit Inspectors: do the restless ghosts of a sadistic doctor and the patients he experimented on still walk the halls of this former sanatorium? Our dedicated crew of paranormal sleuths uncover some **terrifying** new evidence…’_  
Babe pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and threw another piece of popcorn in Snafu’s direction.  
‘Here girl, catch!’   
Snafu blinked placidly at him, allowing the popcorn to bounce off her nose before retrieving it from where it landed on the floor. Babe rolled his eyes. ‘That ain’t exactly the idea, Snaf.’  
The faint sound of keys jangling outside distracted them. Babe felt the familiar ripple of anticipation in his chest, the smile that spread unbidden across his face. Snafu’s ears pricked up, tongue lolling from her mouth as she began to pant with excitement. _What a pair_ , Babe thought, hoping his enthusiasm wasn’t quite as obvious.

‘Hey,’ Eugene poked his head round the door with a lopsided smile, looking perpetually like a visitor who’s just realised they arrived at a bad time.   
‘Hey, yourself. Popcorn?’ Babe shook the bowl at him.  
‘Sweet or buttered?’  
Babe scoffed. ‘Buttered, obviously.’  
Eugene leaned over the arm of the sofa, kissing Babe on the nose. ‘I like sweet.’  
Chuckling softly, Babe leaned back and found his mouth, kissing the tender swell of his bottom lip. ‘You _are_ sweet.’   
He could feel Eugene’s smile forming against his mouth. ‘You’re sweet, too.’  
‘Depends who you ask.’  
Eugene smelt of the warm spring day outside: of fragrant pollen, baking tarmac and barbeque smoke, and beneath it all the faint, clinical scent of the vet surgery.   
‘Good day?’ Babe asked, as Eugene took a handful of popcorn.  
‘Hmm. I was talkin’ to Spina about maybe doing more night shifts, since you’ll be workin’ nights at the bar. You gonna ask about the chef gig?’  
‘Yeah, tonight.’

Eugene wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring glassily at a packet of mixed salad leaves as waves of cool air wafted over him. He wasn’t good in the heat. It was only late April and his nose was already pink and peeling. Babe smiled, watching him from the sofa. The television ceased its nondescript slew of advertisements and cut to the ominous chords and haunted house sound-effects that announced the return of _Spirit Inspectors.  
‘Encouraged by the messages we captured on the Ghost Box, our resident clairvoyant Dirk Larua attempted to make contact with the spirit of Doctor Occidere himself…’_  
Eugene winced, turning towards the television. Blurry night-vision images showed a man in a long black coat standing alone in what looked like an abandoned hospital wing.   
‘I wish you wouldn’t watch this stuff in the apartment, Edward.’  
Babe stared at him. ‘What? Why not? It’s hilarious!’

Dirk Larua was running a hand through his greased-back hair. _“Did you **murder** hundreds of innocent patients, Doctor Occidere? Are you in this room with me **right now?** Come on, if you’re so powerful, send me a sign! Did you **kill** those people, you bastard?’_  
Babe hooted with laughter. ‘Why would you call a _ghost_ a bastard?’ He glanced over at Eugene to see him standing expressionless, his arm tense against the open door of the fridge. ‘Aw c’mon, Gene, it’s all bullshit, you know that. That’s what makes it funny!’ Eventually Eugene flashed him a tense smile, avoiding his eye. Babe frowned. ‘You don’t actually _believe_ this crap, do ya?’  
‘No! Not really, I mean…’ Eugene sighed, taking out a bottle of water and closing the fridge. ‘I just think you shouldn’t mess with shit like that: Ouija Boards and séances and stuff. It invites… bad things into a place.’  
‘Bad things?’  
‘Y’know…’ he shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Negative energy.’  
‘ _Negative energy_?’ Babe was gawking at him incredulously, the remains of a smile still clinging to his face. ‘Jesus Christ, Gene…’

Eugene rubbed the back of his hair, making it fluff untidily. ‘My grandma believed in all that stuff. Faith healing, Voodoo… Growin’ up in Louisiana, I guess we didn’t think of it as bein’ so unusual. She always said when you mess with forces bigger than yourself, you oughta remember that the door opens both ways. You better be damn sure what you’re invitin’ inside.’  
Babe wrinkled his nose. ‘So you think me watchin’ _Spirit Inspectors_ is gonna invite a ghost into the apartment? What’s it gonna do: rattle the cutlery drawer?’ He snorted in amusement at his own joke. ‘The kitchen’s already a mess, with any luck it’ll tidy the place up a bit.’  
Pressing the cold water-bottle against his temple, Eugene let out an exasperated sigh. ‘You ain’t gotta be rude about it, Edward. I don’t know about no ghosts. I just think it’s stupid to… tempt fate, that’s all.’

Babe propped his chin on the arm-rest, watching the blush that stained Eugene’s cheeks. There were dark circles under his eyes and his shirt was rumpled and damp with the heat. It took a lot to piss Eugene off. Babe had only heard him shout once: in the clinic when some idiot had brought in their dog malnourished half to death and anaemic from flea-bites. The look in Eugene’s eyes that day had scared him: the so-unfamiliar contortion of his face, like looking at a stranger. Babe forgot sometimes, when he was yelling about the Eagles losing or the deli forgetting his order again, that Eugene’s feelings required a softer touch than his own. He bit his lip, raising his eyebrows apologetically.

‘Hey. I’m sorry. I just thought you were scared or somethin’, I didn’t mean to be such an asshole.’  
Eugene smiled at him and took a drink, moving back to the couch where he threw himself down beside Babe’s feet.   
‘It’s alright. It’s too damn hot outside, that’s all.’ He gestured to the television, where Dirk Larua was still shouting into the empty room. ‘So who’s this joker?’  
Babe put his feet in Eugene’s lap, making space for him to lean back. ‘He’s the psychic. He’s got, like, PMT or some shit.’  
Eugene choked on another mouthful of water. ‘I think you mean ESP.’

Putting the popcorn bowl down on the floor, Babe began searching around for the remote. ‘You want me to turn it off?’  
Eugene just shrugged. ‘If you really wanna watch it, it’s okay. All those old stories my grandma told me… they just stick in your head, y’know, the things you hear as a kid.’  
Babe nodded, raising his voice as if speaking to an eavesdropper. ‘Besides, if any ghosts wanna pay us a visit, they should know it’s polite to call first!’  
At just that moment, Babe’s phone buzzed loudly against the hardwood floor. He and Eugene froze instantly, staring at each other with their eyes wide.   
‘Who is it?’ Eugene whispered, hugging his knees. ‘Answer it!’  
Babe shook his head vigorously. ‘You’re the expert!’  
Leaning down with great trepidation, Eugene peered across at the phone still vibrating insistently at the foot of the sofa. A name flashed up on the screen. He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes.  
‘It’s Lew.’  
All the same, they both laughed a little too hard as Babe picked up the phone, and as he answered, Eugene got up to switch the television off at the wall. Just in case.

‘Nix! How ya doin’?’   
It didn’t exactly help Babe’s nerves that, for the first few moments, all he could hear down the line was what sounded like some ominously heavy mouth-breathing. It took him a while to realise that Lew had been laughing so hard he couldn’t speak.  
 _‘Babe!’_ he eventually choked out. Babe grinned: he could just hear Dick’s muffled tone of annoyance in the background. _‘Has Lieb called you yet?’_  
Eugene raised his eyebrows questioningly. Babe shrugged in reply. ‘No. What is it? Is everything okay?’  
 _‘Fine, everything’s fine, but you’ll never guess…’  
‘Lewis, really, it isn’t that funny…’_  
‘What? What isn’t that funny?’

Lew seemed to get hold of himself a little, although Babe could still hear the laughter threatening to bubble up in his voice.   
_‘Y’know in Legless, when we were talking about what Ron does for a living?’_  
Babe frowned, perplexed. ‘Yeah, what about it?’  
Another breathless wheeze. _‘You thought he was a… a secret agent!’_ Peals of laughter. Babe huffed irritably.  
‘So what?! Lieb thought he was a porn star!’  
 _‘Okay, okay, but you’ll never guess…’_  
‘No I fuckin’ won’t, so just tell me already!’  
 _‘You remember those cakes that Lip brought over to yours last week? From Patisserie Brécourt?’_  
‘What’s he saying?’ Eugene whispered.  
‘Blah, blah, blah,’ Babe mouthed back. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ he replied more loudly into the phone.   
_‘He works there!’_

‘Snafu! Bad dog!’ Babe yelled, leaping forward. Snafu had taken advantage of the distraction to sneak up and stuff her head in the popcorn bowl. Babe almost dropped the phone as he scrambled to lift it out of her reach. ‘Sorry, what? Works where?’  
 _‘Jesus… Ron! Ron owns a fucking patisserie! That’s his super-top-secret job: he makes tiny little cakes for a living!’_  
Babe rolled his eyes. ‘Okay Nix, hilarious. As if I was gonna believe that. You’re really losin’ your touch, y’know? Leave the comedy stylings to Luz from now on, I’d say.’  
 _‘No, seriously! I just called Lip expecting him to have a good laugh at Lieb’s poor excuse for a joke. Know what he did? He just sighed and said he supposed we all had to find out sometime!’_  
Babe’s face fell. ‘What… really?’  
‘What is it? What’s going on?’ Eugene insisted. Babe angled the phone away from his mouth.  
‘He says Lip’s boyfriend works as a pastry chef or some shit!’  
Eugene scoffed. ‘Yeah, okay. I saw him practically chokeslam a guy in Screaming Eagle but whatever.’  
‘He says Lip told him it was true!’

Eugene’s face took on the same bewildered expression as his own. Lew and Lieb were experts at bullshitting, but for Lip to join in their shenanigans was unheard-of.  
‘You think…?’ Eugene began, then trailed off, speechless.  
‘Lip really said that?’ Babe asked Lew. He heard a long-suffering sigh at the other end.  
 _‘Dick!’_  
 _‘Lip really said that,’_ Dick’s voice affirmed. Babe and Eugene stared at each other. If anyone was less likely than Lip to be in on some elaborate prank, it was Dick.   
‘So those little chocolate profiteroles…’  
 _‘Uh-huh.’_  
‘And… and those cakes with the slices of strawberry on top…?’  
 _‘Oh yeah.’_  
Babe let out a stupefied huff. ‘Well, Lip did say he was a funny guy.’

Beside him, Eugene chuckled quietly. Babe turned and saw he was biting his lip, his shoulders shaking. An image sprang suddenly into his mind, of Ron serving éclairs to old ladies with blue rinses. Suddenly he was giggling himself, so much that he could barely get his words out.  
‘Remember… remember how scared of him Web was?’ he managed, hearing Lew crack up again down the phone.  
Eugene tugged on his sleeve. ‘Remember how scared of him _you_ were!’ He collapsed into howls of laughter.   
‘That was different!’ Babe spluttered, outraged. ‘He stole my goddamn lighter!’  
 _‘So you couldn’t call him out for it? What was he gonna do, throw a custard pie in your face?’_  
Babe’s cheeks reddened. By this point he could even hear Dick’s reluctant chuckling in the background.  
‘Y’know what? Screw you guys! He still creamed those guys in Screaming Eagle the other night.’  
 _‘Well I should hope so. Cream’s one of his specialities.’_  
Babe groaned.   
‘Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. I’m gonna go before this conversation descends into cake-related pun hell.’  
 _‘You sure are walking on thin icing there, Babe.’_  
‘That was just poor.’  
 _‘You’re right, you’re right... I got off to a crumby start…’_  
‘Okay, goodbye.’  
 _‘No, wait! Wait!’_

Babe put the phone back to his ear with a sigh. ‘What is it?’  
 _‘I actually did wanna speak to you about something else. Y’know it was Bill’s birthday yesterday?’_  
Babe’s expression froze. ‘…Shit.’  
Down the line, he heard Lew laugh. _‘It’s okay, he hates making a big deal of it anyway. I think this year even he forgot about it, what with the bar opening and everything. But anyway, your birthday’s soon, right? The 16th of next month?’_  
‘Yeah.’  
 _‘And Lieb’s is the day after. Dick was saying we should have some kinda joint party for the two of you plus a belated thing for Bill. That way he can’t complain that everyone’s making a fuss of him, since it’ll be your celebration too.’_

Babe had been preparing himself for another one of Lew’s borderline-suicidal party itineraries. He nodded, taken aback slightly. ‘That’s actually a pretty good idea.’  
 _‘Yeah, thanks for the tone of surprise. I did actually go to college with the rest of you, y’know.’_  
‘Uh-huh. And what was your major again: napping? I don’t think they award academic credits for being able to knock back three Alabama Slammers in under a minute.’  
 _‘Ha-ha.’_  
‘So what’s the plan?’  
 _‘You just leave that up to me.’  
‘And me, Lewis. I will not have a repeat of the vodka-filled kiddie pool disaster from Luz’s birthday.’  
‘That was a great success!’  
‘Skinny ended up in hospital.’  
‘A moderate success, then.’_  
Babe rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands. And yours too, Lew.’  
 _‘Listen here, you little-’_  
‘Bye!’ He hung up hurriedly before Lew could get started again. 

Eugene was sitting on the floor, rubbing Snafu’s belly. ‘What was he saying about a party?’  
Babe lay back on the sofa, propping his feet on the arm-rest. ‘Joint birthday thing for me, Lieb and Bill.’  
Eugene gasped. ‘Bill’s birthday!’  
‘It’s okay, I don’t think he really did anything this year.’  
Eugene looked aghast anyway. ‘We better get him somethin’ real nice.’ He glanced up at Babe. ‘What d’you think this party’s gonna be like?’  
‘With Dick and Lew in charge?’ Babe shook his head, grinning. ‘A night to remember, I bet.’


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the party: characteristically unable to get out of bed, Lew reminisces about the beginnings of his and Dick's relationship.

Sunlight fell in a burning stripe across Lew’s shoulder and down his arm. Stirring out of its path, he yawned and opened his eyes. The bright May morning spilled through a chink in the curtains, filling the room with a soft golden glow. Dick’s sleeping breaths were steady and warm against the nape of his neck, the comforting weight of an arm slung unconsciously across Lew’s hip. The last flickers of a dream still snagged drowsily in his mind, but the room was too bright. Sighing, Lew turned away from the window, nuzzling against Dick’s face in pursuit of shadow. Dick had always been a light sleeper. He mumbled incoherently and kissed Lew’s forehead, his eyes still closed.   
‘…Should get up,’ he whispered, pulling Lew closer.  
Lew groaned. ‘Alarm hasn’t gone yet,’ he replied, his voice husky and low. 

A breeze from their open window gusted lazily against the curtains, widening the luminous band that cut its way across the bed. Lew glanced up and felt a breath catch in his chest. Rays of sun pooled languidly into the valley created by Dick’s head pressed against his pillow, bathing his face in light. His hair blazed like burnished copper, little dazzles of sun reflecting in its fox-red strands. It made Lew think of the gleam on fresh snow, brilliant under a clear morning sky.   
‘I love you,’ Lew whispered. As natural as breathing, those words. 

***

 

It had always been that way with Dick. They were drawn together, almost unconsciously, right from the day they met at first year try-outs for the college basketball team. Lew wasn’t so much trying out as trying to remain standing after a particularly wild dorm party the night before. At the first opportunity he slinked out and lay on a bench in the locker room, opening his eyes every few minutes to check if the lights above him were still spinning.   
‘You okay?’ came a voice from above him, and Lew looked up into the face of Dick Winters.

Even blinded by the fluorescent lights of the court, with echoed shouts and the squeak of basketball shoes searing through his head, Lew had already spotted him. He was hard to miss: long supple limbs and a shock of red hair. The whole team seemed to fall inevitably into his rhythm. He led with the same easy grace as he played, controlling the game without ever once raising his voice. Lew had eyed him with a sort of indifferent appreciation, devoid of ambition. He’d seen that type before: athletic, confident, most likely rich, most likely straight. The type Lew should have been. The type he made sure to hold in conspicuous disdain, as if the drinking and bad grades could somehow conceal the lingering stain of summers in the Hamptons, a socialite mother and an education bought with daddy’s money. The sight of Dick up close, however, set his practiced air of nonchalance briefly askew.

A faint blush trailed appealingly down Dick’s neck and beneath his jersey. Soaked with sweat, the fabric clung to his chest, revealing hard lines of muscle beneath. His bright hair had faded to a damp russet colour, plastered against his head in what Lew correctly guessed was an uncharacteristic state of unruliness. Dick raised his eyebrows, the faint twist of a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth.  
‘…You okay?’ he asked again. Lew’s jaw snapped shut.  
‘Yeah, sure,’ he replied, crossing his arms beneath his head and trying not to focus on the strong curve of Dick’s thigh right at his eye-level. Dick considered him with a cool, amused expression.   
‘Don’t wanna try out for the team?’  
‘Think I’ll stick with beer pong.’

Dick gave a huff of amusement. Lew flushed, feeling suddenly exposed, yet not unpleasantly so. Dick saw through the act so he dropped it without a thought. He wanted to make him laugh again.  
‘And why are you hiding out in the locker room?’ he asked, raising himself onto his elbows.  
Dick shook the freshly-filled water bottle in his hand. Lew nodded. A beat of silence passed.  
‘I’m Richard. Dick.’  
Lew blinked at him. ‘Lewis Nixon,’ he replied, taking the hand that Dick offered. Dick’s palm was cold from the bottle, sending the hairs rising along Lew’s arm. ‘Where you from?’   
To his surprise, Dick sat down on the bench. The warmth of his body just ghosted against Lew’s leg. ‘Pennsylvania. Lancaster County.’  
Lew laughed. ‘The Quaker State? Don’t you have the strictest liquor laws in the country or something? Sounds like hell.’ 

His initial impression of Dick, it seemed, couldn’t have been more wrong. He could see it now, though: limbs grown strong from running barefoot through the fields. Endless empty hours swimming in creeks and hunting rabbits, making the vast sky echo to the rhythmic slap of a basketball on the front porch. A flash of red hair amongst golden stems of corn. Dick just smiled wryly.   
‘You?’ he asked.   
Lew sighed into the well-worn response. ‘New York, California… Europe for a while. Family business is in New Jersey but we moved around a lot.’ He felt his face redden as he answered. For a moment he didn’t look at Dick, acutely aware of how privileged his own life must sound: how callous his laughter at Dick’s more modest childhood. When he finally glanced up, Dick was watching him placidly through those grey-blue eyes.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but Lew was anxious to fill it: to distract Dick from the game outside and prolong this strange moment.   
‘So, what team do you support?’ he fumbled.   
‘Chicago Bulls,’ Dick replied, ducking his head.  
Lew chuckled. ‘Not the Philly 76ers? Or even the Knicks? Chicago’s not exactly your home town, why the Bulls?’  
‘I just liked them, I guess, as a kid,’ Dick shrugged. ‘They wore red. Kids at school tried to nickname me Red.’ He cast a crooked smile in Lew’s direction. ‘Never really stuck.’  
Lew smiled back. ‘You don’t look like a Red.’  
Almost too briefly to notice, Dick’s gaze flitted down the length of Lew’s body.   
‘What do I look like?’

Lew often wondered, in the years that followed, how different things might have been if Coach Sobel hadn’t appeared in the doorway at that exact moment, screaming blue murder. Were they wasted days, the next year and a half they spent stumbling around one another’s feelings? Or would they have loved too recklessly: burned too bright and then died into darkness, without the anchor of their friendship? So many smiles and glances misread; so many empty, aching nights. To that very day, Lew wasn’t sure whether to mourn them or celebrate them.

In any case, from then on they seemed thrown together without even trying. They were forever bumping into one another in the cafeteria or on 3am trips to the laundry room: Lew coming across Dick working in the library’s silent levels whilst trying to find a place to sleep off a hangover. Different in almost every conceivable way, and yet perhaps that was the reason they seemed to fit so well and so inevitably together, one’s failings balanced by the other’s virtues. Lew had more than his fair share of failings, he knew: lazy, arrogant, an addictive personality. Still, he and Dick were never exactly the polar opposites that others seemed so eager to define them as. Dick, the clean-cut model student and star athlete, could be quiet to the point of coldness, with a tendency to internalise everything and a compulsion for order and timeliness that sometimes bordered on the neurotic. Lew brought him out of his own head: prevented him from taking himself too seriously. In turn, Dick gave Lew something to be serious about, for perhaps the first time in his life.

It was a moment of such sincerity, still unfamiliar to him in those days, which seized hold of him again some eighteen months after they had first met. In their second year they’d agreed to share a tiny two-bedroom apartment just off-campus. That night they were sitting beside one another on the sofa, half-watching the Chicago Bulls play the Boston Celtics: a home game at the United Center in Chicago. Lew glanced over at Dick, at his pale face washed with the undulating glow of the television screen. Flashes of colour passed over his skin: red, blue, green. The silence between them was easy, as it always had been, and yet Lew longed to fill it with something, as he supposed he always would.   
‘We’ll go to Chicago. I’ll take you there.’

He often made these grandiose, heartfelt yet perpetually unfulfilled promises. _You seem like a nice guy, I’ll set you up with my sister; we’ll go for dinner at the Ritz, hell, it’s only an eight-hour flight._ A compulsive desire to be liked: was that a vice? Dick would know. Lew turned back to the screen and took a cigarette from his pocket, chewing it absent-mindedly. He didn’t have a lighter. He could sense Dick looking at him in the flickering gloom. Lew stared sightlessly at the game until Dick sighed, turning his head away.  
‘Yeah. We’ll see.’

That was where it ended, he knew. Where it had ended so many times before. Conversations with his father about money. Conversations with his mother about anything at all. Conversations with Dick, hinting at the truth that flared painfully, more often now than ever, at the scent of Dick’s shampoo in the shower or a brief accidental glimpse of him undressed through the bedroom door. A few words, a trace of meaning, trailing off into silence. Lew wasn’t a brave man: he had no illusions about that. But maybe he could be. As he turned again silently, deliberately to face Dick, he believed for the first time that he could be. 

‘Dick.’  
He almost flinched at the sound of his own voice, trembling high in his throat. As Dick looked at him Lew saw his pupils flare, the brief flash of teeth dragging unconsciously across his bottom lip. They were close but not touching, the warmth of each other’s breath just barely felt on their skin. How many hundreds of times had Lew done this before? The shared smile, the lingering glance, the touch of hands: he could trace that well-worn path in his sleep. He almost had on many an occasion, so drunk he could barely see, following the curves of a stranger’s body by touch alone like checkpoints on a map. As he looked at Dick he felt suddenly lost, the road before him stretching dizzily into uncharted territory. 

A frenzy of cheering from the television echoed in the dark. Lew guessed he had only a few seconds more before Dick turned away and the rising flash of courage in his chest quailed back to nothing. Closing his eyes, he lurched clumsily forward, catching the still softness of Dick’s bottom lip. A brief touch of skin, warm against his mouth. His blood shivered, roaring in his ears. For a few jagged seconds Lew waited for Dick to laugh and pull away, or turn silently back to the television, leaving a chasm of space between them that could never be crossed again. Dick was motionless, his only response a quick intake of breath: a sliding hiss, like snowflakes tapping on a window. 

Lew opened his eyes. Dick’s were closed, his expression stained by the television’s changing light. Each lick of colour and shadow created a frown, a grimace, a smile. Lew’s body was static; his mind a violence of hope and terror. He opened his mouth to explain. To beg forgiveness. _A moment of weakness, perfectly understandable. Let’s never speak of it again._ At that moment, his eyes still closed, Dick leaned in and pressed his forehead against Lew’s.  
‘We shouldn’t.’  
An icy searing in Lew’s chest.   
‘Why?’ he whispered. 

Reasons crowded in his mind. It was the drinking, the partying. The sleeping around: he knew Dick had disapproved of that. He didn’t want anyone. Or, worst of all, he wanted someone else. Lew wondered madly if he could pass the whole thing off as some elaborate joke: gotcha this time! Finally, Dick looked at him.  
‘I don’t want to lose this. You.’  
Lew watched the fear in those eyes and saw himself. He shook his head firmly, the warmth of Dick’s face pressed so close to his.  
‘You’ll never lose me. Never.’ he promised with the certainty of those who have never fallen out of love. 

Perhaps Dick knew the frailty, the naivety of such promises. Perhaps not. It doesn’t matter. Such is the inexorable nature of love: you can fall, you can be pushed, or you can jump with eyes wide open and a scream in your throat. Nobody can know where you’ll land, or what damage may be done. You won’t find out until it’s too late to turn back. You can fool yourself into thinking you have a choice but you don’t. In the end we’re all in the air, watching the ground come rushing up to meet us.   
Lew sighed into the press of Dick’s mouth against his own and felt himself drop back against the sofa. He pulled Dick down with him. 

***

 

‘I love you too.’  
Dick reached up with one hand and brushed his fingers through Lew’s hair, tracing the curve of his ear and down along his neck. Dick’s eyes shone translucent in the sunlight, his smile patient. The smile he always wore when he told Lew he loved him: as if he were explaining to a child the most obvious thing in the world. Lew touched the golden-lit skin of Dick’s arm and smiled back.

The alarm-clock on the bedside table shrieked raggedly into life. Groaning, Dick turned over on his back and swatted aimlessly at it until the noise stopped.   
‘Now it really _is_ time to get up.’  
Lew made a non-committal noise and burrowed further under the covers in response, closing his eyes. He heard the muted sound of Dick’s phone buzzing, the slight creak of the mattress as he leaned over and retrieved it from the floor.   
‘Harry says he’ll pick us up in an hour. C’mon, Lew.’ Dick patted the lump of bedsheets, then sighed when Lew remained motionless. ‘We can’t all go to a party at your house without you.’  
Lew huffed as Dick pulled the covers from around his head. ‘Who needs an hour to get ready anyway…’

Dick abandoned his fruitless attempts to rip the sheets from Lew’s grasp and instead slipped back underneath them. Grabbing blindly in the dark, he caught hold of Lew’s thigh and pulled. Lew twisted round with a yelp of surprise, exposing his stomach for Dick to tickle mercilessly. Catching Dick on the chin with his elbow as he tried to flail out of his grip, Lew used this moment of inadvertent victory to roll on top of Dick and pin him down. Laughing once he regained his breath, Dick effortlessly flipped him onto his back.  
‘Alright, alright! Jesus, I’m up…’ Lew raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.   
Dick raised an eyebrow. ‘Not yet.’  
Lew’s expression was wiped blank by the shock of Dick’s mouth grinding hungrily against his.

A determined hand clutched once again at Lew’s thigh, pain sparking deliciously as Dick’s fingers graced the tender spot they had marked moments before. Lew arched up and gasped against the hollow at the base of Dick’s neck. A straining warmth spilled its way through him, blooming in every muscle as he felt Dick’s hardness pressed suddenly against his own. Slowly, torturously, Dick rocked his hips forward.

‘What the fuck!’  
They broke apart suddenly at a deafening tirade of yapping, followed by what felt like a fuzzy cannonball launching itself onto the bed and catching Dick smartly in the ribs.  
‘Ooof!’ he wheezed, rolling onto his back as Darlin’ trampled angrily over the bedsheets, still barking.  
‘Damn dog! Get outta here!’ Lew tried to shoo her off but succeeded only in driving her to the foot of the bed, where she crouched down low, growling. ‘You okay?’ he turned to Dick, who was lying winded against the pillows.

‘What did I tell you…’ he groaned, holding his side. Lew stopped himself from laughing too hard.  
‘I think she thought you were attacking me.’  
‘I _will_ attack you in a minute,’ Dick muttered darkly.  
‘Aw, c’mon,’ Lew replied, bending over to place a kiss on one flushed cheek. ‘If we can’t lock her in the bathroom we can at least lock ourselves in there.’ He watched Dick’s eyelids flutter as he slipped a hand under the covers. ‘Come and take a shower with me.’  
At the bottom of the bed, Darlin’ curled up in a patch of sunlight, placated by the sudden hush. Her ears twitched in half-slumber at the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut, the low hiss of water running. If there were other sounds, she didn’t hear them. The morning slipped by unnoticed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone travels up to the party at the Nixon summerhouse.   
> Dick and Lew meet Kitty for the first time. Lieb and Web endure an awkward 3-hour journey with Ron. Skip protects Faye from Luz's embarrassing attempts at flirting.

‘Yeah, we’re on our way out the door right now, Harry. Sorry about that.’ Dick shuffled uncomfortably, his face almost as red as his hastily-towelled hair. ‘Okay, sorry. Okay, we’ll see you in a few minutes.’  
As he hung up he turned to face Lew, lying half-dressed on the bed with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Dick hadn’t been captain of the basketball team for nothing: the towel hit Lew square in the head with a damp _flop._  
‘Hey! When did _you_ last get laid?’ 

Dick rolled his eyes and dodged as Lew threw the towel back at him, missing him entirely. As it landed, Darlin’ awoke from where she’d been dozing under the dining-table. Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed it off the floor and bounded onto the bed, where she dropped it once again on Lew’s face. Dick’s shoulder shook with laughter.  
‘Good girl!’ he went over to the bed and ruffled her ears. Darlin’ wagged her tail in response, her whole body wriggling with the effort. 

Turning to Lew, who was now wiping a mixture of water and puppy-drool from his face, Dick tapped his watch.  
‘Harry and Kitty are already waiting outside. If we don’t hurry, the others will all make it to your house before we do.’  
‘It’s not my house,’ Lew replied with an affronted huff.   
‘Your _summer_ house, then.’  
‘My dad’s summer house. It’s not mine.’  
Dick recognised the maudlin twinge in Lew’s voice and intercepted it with a reassuring kiss to the forehead.   
‘C’mon Lew, it’ll be fun.’

Lew sighed and buttoned up his shirt as Dick stuffed toothbrushes and sun block into the overnight bag on the kitchen counter. Offering the Nixon family’s summer house for a long weekend away had seemed the perfect idea for a birthday celebration. The pool, the beach nearby, the neighbours who were absent save for Christmas and school holidays… Even Lew had been buzzing with excitement for weeks. Now, sitting reluctantly on his bed watching somebody else pack his things, he felt nine years old again. Dreading the long familiar drive, like a recurring dream he couldn’t wake from. The stifling, empty days ahead: with nothing to do but hide from his father and lose endless games of tennis to Blanche, wishing he were back home. He kept reminding himself that his father wouldn’t be there, that he was going with friends. Like Dick said, _it would be fun_. Still he felt a kind of anxious broiling in the pit of his stomach: a desire to stay and a restlessness to be gone, to get it over with. 

‘Have you got keys?’ Dick asked, distractedly opening and closing cupboard doors as he searched for anything that had been forgotten. Lew nodded silently, then realised Dick wasn’t looking at him.  
‘Yeah.’ His voice felt high, forced.   
‘Grab the cooler then and let’s go. You’re sure there’s charcoal up at the house? We can always stop and get some just in case…’  
‘Blanche was up last week with her college buddies, she says they left plenty.’  
‘Alright. Darlin’, come here!’ Dick bent down and fastened the lead to her collar then looped it around his wrist, picking up the overnight bag. Lew got up and followed him to the door.

In the doorway, Dick turned and stared expectantly at him. Lew stared back, his face blank.  
‘Lew. The meat.’  
Lew turned and stared dumbly at the cooler still sitting beside the fridge. ‘Oh.’   
He strode back and picked it up, the cold handle comforting against the sweat of his palm. Fishing a set of keys from his pocket, he almost walked right past the brush of Dick’s hand against his arm.   
‘Lew, seriously. It’s going to be fine.’  
The firmness of Dick’s touch grounded him. His eyes were calm and steady, filled with that baffling, infuriating, infectious confidence that everything, somehow, would be okay in the end. Lew smiled despite himself.   
‘I know. Let’s get going.’

***

 

By the time they made it outside, Harry and Kitty were both out of the car. Harry was leaning against the wall of the apartment block in a pool of shade, smoking a cigarette. Kitty sat on the bonnet in a red sun dress, idly kicking her heels against the front tyre. From half a block away, Lew could see them smiling at each other.   
‘Harry!’ he yelled out, waving. They turned, Kitty’s sunglasses sending out a skitter of reflected light.   
‘And what time d’you boys call this, huh?’ Harry called back, laughing as they approached. ‘All your fault, Lew, I assume.’  
‘Not entirely,’ Lew grinned, pulling Harry in for a hug.  
‘Yes, entirely,’ replied Dick, settling for a handshake. 

‘And this must be the famous Kitty Grogan!’ Lew turned to her as she slid off the bonnet.  
‘Harry’s been telling stories about me again, has he?’ she replied, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Lew and a smile from Dick.   
‘Only extremely flattering ones,’ Dick assured her. She laughed, taking off her sunglasses to polish them on the hem of her dress.  
‘That’s the problem! When I met your friend Skip I got the feeling he was waiting for me to walk on water. I’m afraid you’ll all find me thoroughly disappointing.’ Her full lips twitched with a hint of mischief.  
‘Never,’ said Lew, his eyes warm.

‘Say what you like, but I stand by every word,’ Harry interjected, raising his hands defensively. Lew scoffed.  
‘Even what you said about her being able to drink me under the table?’  
‘Especially that,’ he replied, throwing Kitty a sly look. The answering sparkle in her eyes was the mirror of Harry’s.   
‘Well, why don’t we put it to the test tonight?’ she said, raising an eyebrow at Lew. ‘If you think you’re up to the challenge?’  
Dick chuckled, exchanging a knowing glance with Harry as Lew puffed out his chest.  
‘Fighting talk,’ Lew nodded, offering her a hand to seal the deal. ‘You’re on.’

Up until this point, Darlin’ had been too distracted by the new host of outdoor smells around her to notice the unfamiliar people standing nearby. Finally having exhausted whatever fascinating scent was clinging to the car’s rear tyre, she gambolled forward and began sniffing Kitty’s ankle.   
‘Oh, hello!’ she crouched down and put out her hand. Darlin’ whined and looked up at Lew for reassurance, then bashfully offered Kitty a paw. She laughed, giving it a shake. ‘Nice to meet you too!’  
Dick huffed, astonished. ‘Well, she’s never done _that_ before…’  
‘Good girl!’ Kitty tickled the puppy’s ear with her free hand, allowing Darlin’ to lick her hesitantly on the wrist.

‘So you can out-drink Lew, you can talk to animals… have you ever actually tried walking on water?’ Dick joked, shouldering the overnight bag as Harry went to open the trunk of the car. ‘Might be worth a shot.’  
Kitty smiled, shaking her head. ‘Honestly, once you get to know me you’ll find I’m absolutely chock-full of awful character flaws.’  
‘You’ll fit right in, then,’ Lew replied with a wink.

‘Oh, here, let me get that for you,’ Kitty moved to take the overnight bag from Dick as he struggled to keep Darlin’ from chewing at an old candy wrapper in the gutter.   
‘That’s alright, it’s quite heavy. You take Darlin’ if you want.’ Dick handed her the lead.   
‘Darlin’? What a perfect name for you!’ Kitty bent down and picked her up. ‘Ooft! She’s heavier than she looks…’  
‘Yeah, she’s getting big now,’ Lew replied, dumping the cooler in the trunk next to the overnight bag. ‘You can keep her in the front with you if you like, it’s good for her to spend time with new people.’

Kitty didn’t need asking twice. By the time Dick, Lew and Harry had piled into the car, Darlin’ was nestled happily in her lap. Harry looked at them and groaned.   
‘Boys, don’t encourage her, will ya? She was all for taking one of those pups when Eugene called.’  
Lew looked up from his phone with a puzzled expression. ‘You don’t like dogs or something, Harry? You’d better not be allergic or the next three hours are not gonna be fun for you…’  
Kitty craned her neck from the front seat to cast a conspiratorial glance at Dick and Lew. ‘He thinks we should start with a goldfish and work our way up.’  
Harry gave an exasperated sigh as he started the engine. ‘It’s not that, I just think we should wait until after we’re-’ only Dick saw the fleeting, frozen expression on Harry’s face as he cut himself off mid-sentence.  
‘After what?’ Kitty asked distractedly, searching for something in the glove-box.   
‘After… uh… you graduate.’ He cast her a wary glance.   
‘Hmm. I guess that does make sense.’  
As the taut line of Harry’s jaw relaxed, a suspicion glinted in the back of Dick’s mind. He eyed Harry for a moment, then bit back a smile. 

‘How’s everyone else getting there?’ Kitty asked, rolling the window up a little as Darlin’ tried to stick her nose out.  
Lew pondered for a second. ‘Joe’s got a pickup so him and Bill are bringing all the booze… plus Eugene and Babe’s things as well, I think.’  
‘Why’s that?’   
‘Eugene wanted to ride up on his motorbike.’  
Dick chuckled. ‘I bet Babe’s having a fantastic time.’  
‘I know Malarkey, Buck and Tab are all giving rides to people… Oh!’ Lew turned to Dick with a wicked smile. ‘Lip and Ron are coming up in Lieb’s cab.’  
Harry, fully caught up on the gossip from that inauspicious night, cackled loudly.  
‘Now _that_ should be interesting.’  
Dick shook his head wearily and began to fill Kitty in on Web and Lieb’s misadventures as they set off on their long journey.

***

 

A cab sped through the outer city limits: four men, two dogs and an enormous birthday cake all stuffed inside. Nobody spoke: the cab enveloped in an unnerving quiet that grew and solidified with every passing moment. Choruses of car-horns and fleeting scraps of music outside seemed only to intensify the noiselessness within. Lieb cleared his throat, causing Web to abandon his thorough inspection of the window trim with a start.  
‘I’m, uh, sorry the radio ain’t workin’. Meant to get it fixed before the trip but, y’know…’  
‘These things happen,’ Lip replied, with a reassuring smile. Web’s foot tapped compulsively against the floor until Mako awoke in his lap with a sleepy grumble. 

Glancing across the back seat, Lip saw Ron staring resolutely out of the window, as if he were in a train carriage or a waiting room rather than a friend’s car. The silence prickled him.  
‘Apparently Smokey and Hoobler are bringing up some fireworks,’ he blurted out, in a desperate attempt to break the ice. ‘Looks like I’ll be able to put on a show for everyone after the barbeque tonight.’  
Lieb risked a smile. ‘Hoob ain’t to be trusted this time, huh?’  
Lip chuckled in reply, then turned to Ron. ‘Smokey and Hoobler do professional firework displays. Last Fourth of July we set some off round at Buck’s house and one of them failed to light. Well, Hoob goes over all professional, talking about responsible firework disposal, and the thing suddenly explodes right in front of him!’  
‘Damn near went right up the leg of his pants!’ Web added, laughing.   
‘Set fire to his jeans and everything,’ continued Lip. ‘He was lucky he only got a few minor burns. Of course, it’s funny now, but it could’ve been pretty serious.’  
Lieb shook his head. ‘Good old Hoob, always putting his foot in it!’ he joked.

‘You two also seem to have a talent for that.’ Ron’s voice startled them abruptly back into silence. Web and Lieb stared straight ahead, their faces frozen in rictus grins. Sensing the source of their unease, Mako clambered up Web’s chest and stuck his snout over his shoulder to sniff at Ron. Ron looked back with an even, expressionless stare. Whimpering softly, Mako dropped down and huddled against Web, hiding his face. Lip caught the flicker of amusement in Ron’s eye and shook his head, making a mental note to give him hell for it later. After they’d stopped laughing, of course. Poor Web looked like he was about to face a firing squad. 

The cityscape outside thinned and melted into leafy suburbs, then open, empty fields. Clifford sighed and dropped from Lip’s knees down into the footwell, where he curled up to sleep. An awkward hush fell over the cab once again. Lieb shuffled uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.  
‘I need to pee,’ he announced, to nobody in particular.   
Lip checked his watch. _Only two and a half hours to go._

***

 

‘Alright, everybody ready to go?’ Malarkey slung himself into the driver’s seat, turning to check on his passengers. ‘Nobody needs to visit the little girls’ room? I ain’t stopping for the first hour so now’s your last chance.’  
‘Jesus, _mom_ , just get goin’ already!’  
‘Belt up, Luz. And while you’re at it, put your seatbelt on too, huh?’  
Luz huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes at Faye, eliciting a polite giggle. ‘Some people, I tell ya, no fuckin’ respect…’  
‘Hey, hey! Watch your language, there’s ladies present!’ Skip joked, lacing his fingers with Faye’s. Luz put on his best hangdog expression.  
‘My apologies, Miss Tanner.’  
Skip gave him a look of mock-puzzlement. ‘Who, _this_ old broad? I was talkin’ about Penk!’   
‘Shaddap!’ Penkala yelled from the front seat. Skip yelped and threw his arms across his face as Faye smacked him with an outraged gasp.  
‘You asshole!’ she said, laughing. Skip gestured towards her.  
‘See?! Swears like a trooper! Penk on the other hand, he’s a delicate little flower, ain’t ya?’

As Skip kicked at the back of his seat, Penkala twisted round to face them, holding up the tray balanced on his lap. ‘If you lot want any of these jello shots later you best start bein’ nice to me…’  
Skip looked outraged. ‘What, even Faye? She made ‘em!’  
‘Faye can have all yours and Luz’s share.’  
‘Thank you, Alex,’ said Faye, shooting Skip a smug look. He stuck his tongue out in reply.

‘The things you learn in teacher training, huh?’ Luz nudged her and winked. ‘Say… you ever been tempted, when the kids are bein’ real rowdy, to… y’know…’  
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You mean spike their jello?’  
‘Luz!’ Malarkey shouted. Faye just gave a mischievous smirk.  
‘Don’t worry, we only did that once.’  
The boys laughed uproariously. 

‘So, you’re gonna be a teacher, huh?’ Luz turned back to Faye. She nodded.  
‘That’s the plan.’  
Luz fixed her with his cat-like grin. ‘An educated woman- that’s good, I like that…’ With a nonchalant sigh, he swung his arm around the back of her headrest. ‘Y’know, I got into college with the rest of these meatheads, I bet Skip never told you that…’  
She eyed him evenly. ‘Is that so?’  
He nodded. ‘Oh yeah. Media Studies. I did a show on the college radio station for a while. I was, uh… kind of a celebrity.’  
Skip snorted. ‘Yeah, the reception was so bad it was that or the shipping forecast. Stiff competition.’  
‘Jealousy is so unattractive, don’t ya think?’ Luz gave a conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows. ‘Anyway, I left after my first year.’  
‘You mean you failed out,’ Penkala added. Luz ignored him.  
‘Academic life can be pretty stifling to creative genius. You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever-’

‘Alright, that’s enough,’ Skip unbuckled his seatbelt. ‘Faye, switch with me.’  
Quick as a flash, Faye had scooted over to where Skip had been sitting, her face brightening with relief. Luz gave an affronted scoff as Skip plonked himself down in the middle seat, squashing him up against the window.  
‘Aw, Skip, c’mon buddy, we were just-’  
‘ _You_ were just making a nuisance of yourself, as usual. And Faye was being polite.’ Skip wrapped an arm around Faye’s shoulders. 

For a few moments Luz just muttered grumpily, staring out the window. Then, a wicked twinkle appeared in his eye. He turned back to Skip and Faye, mischief tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
‘Hey Faye, did Skip ever tell you about the time he went over Niagara Falls in a barrel?’  
‘No, Luz, I didn’t go _over_ the-’  
‘You did _what?!’_  
Skip flinched as Faye smacked him on the arm again.  
‘No, baby, listen, I didn’t-’  
‘Are you _crazy?!_ You could’ve _died!_ What the hell is wrong with you-’

Penkala turned and shook his head at Luz as Skip sank slowly down the seat under a barrage of pinches and slaps.   
‘You’re an asshole,’ he muttered, stifling a laugh. Luz just grinned.  
‘Hey, only two and a half hours to go!’


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone arrives at the Nixon summer house. Babe and Eugene do some inadvertent eavesdropping. With Dick's help, Lew faces the ghosts of his childhood.

Lew’s arm hung languidly out of the open window, the car’s bodywork warmed just enough by the midday sun to sting against his skin. From behind his sunglasses he watched the sepia-tinted town cruise by. Each house was separated by a vast, meticulously featureless stretch of lawn: Colonial Revival, Neoclassical, the occasional glassy Modernist menace erupting belligerently amongst them like a new tooth. Though they couldn’t see it yet, he could smell the ocean. Its salt tang jarred bewilderingly with the greenery all around, dotted with cherry trees just beginning to lose their cloying pink blossom.   
‘It’s the next right,’ he called out suddenly, remembering himself. Harry kept glancing around at the houses as he drove. Dick and Kitty were silent, staring. He saw the look on their faces and couldn’t blame them. It was dazzling: straight from the glossy pages of a magazine. Azure swimming pools, classic cars, smiling children and beautiful wives. They’d been driving ceaselessly for the last two hours and he felt ill.

‘Okay?’  
Turning to look at him, Dick pried Lew’s hand from the edge of the seat, turning it over. His fingers traced softly across Lew’s palm.  
‘Fine,’ Lew attempted a smile and felt the corners of his mouth twitch reluctantly. Dick’s tenderness in this place seemed wrong, discordant: like the shrieks of seabirds mingling with echoed rallies from the tennis court. He needed a drink.  
‘Which way now?’ Harry called from the front. Lew glanced up.  
‘Sorry- right again, and just keep going until the road ends. It’s over on the left hand side of the street.’

As they pulled over they could see two cars, a pickup truck and a bike already parked in the wide, sweeping driveway. Across another eerily bland swathe of lawn there rose a three-storey house. The midday sun struck blindingly against its stainless white walls. At this time of day, the wrap-around porch provided only the merest sliver of shade. Lew forced himself to look at it, feeling in his stomach the sick lurch of a man who, happily digging in his garden, suddenly unearths a human skull. Rows of balusters grinned at him, pearly-white.   
‘Hey! Look who finally decided to show up!’  
A figure had appeared from behind the back of the house: the voice that floated down to meet them unmistakably that of George Luz. 

‘Well, at least we’re not last,’ said Dick, squeezing Lew’s hand. ‘Lieb’s cab isn’t here, and there’s one other car missing, I think?’  
‘Tab’s,’ Harry added from the front seat. ‘And y’know what Lieb’s like, he probably had to stop every half an hour to take a piss. We’ll be lucky if they make it here by midnight.’  
Bill and Joe joined Luz at the gate that led into the back garden. Bill waved down at them as they got out of the car, tipping slightly to the left as if his arm were weighing him down. Joe caught him at the last second and pulled him upright. A red party-hat sat jauntily on Bill’s head.  
‘Hey, Nix! Let us in already, the booze is gettin’ warm!’ he yelled, leaning heavily against Joe.  
‘Looks like somebody started without us,’ Harry stage-whispered to Kitty. ‘He’d have to be three sheets to the wind to let Luz put that thing on his head.’

Darlin’ had leapt eagerly from Kitty’s lap to relieve herself in the bushes. Now she tugged against her lead, whining, eager to explore the strange new smells around her.   
‘Can I..?’ Kitty turned and held up the lead.   
‘The back garden’s enclosed: you can let her off in there,’ said Lew as he and Dick emptied the trunk. Harry and Kitty went on ahead, Darlin’ dragging them up the hill.   
‘I know this is harder than you expected,’ Dick said quietly, brushing his knuckles against Lew’s arm. Lew nodded, avoiding his eye.  
‘It’s just…’ he sighed wearily. ‘I forgot how much I used to hate this place, that’s all.’  
‘A place is just a place. What matters are the people here with you.’

Dick watched him with that steady, gentle gaze: no judgement, just acceptance. That all-forgiving look which sometimes made his heart soar, and other times hurt more than tears or words or nights alone ever could. Lew would do anything to deserve the way Dick looked at him.   
‘Come on,’ Dick crooked a finger under Lew’s chin, lifting his head. ‘We’re here for our friends: for Bill and Babe and Lieb. Let’s go and be happy for them.’ Glancing around the empty street, he still couldn’t quite risk a kiss in such a new and unfamiliar place. Instead, he offered Lew a smile. ‘You did a generous thing, offering this place for them. You’re a good person, Lew. We’re proud to be your family.’

‘Hey, lovebirds! The jello shots are melting!’ Penkala appeared and yelled at them over the fence. Lew cleared his throat, taking a deep, steadying breath until the stinging in his eyes subsided. He swayed a little towards Dick, enough to take strength from the warmth of his body, solid and real against the brief touch of his fingertips.  
‘Okay. I’m okay. Let’s go.’  
He picked up the cooler and handed Dick the overnight bag. Dick slung it over his shoulder, placing a hand on Lew’s arm as if steadying himself. He didn’t let go as they made their way up to the house. 

***

 

‘Nice of you to join us!’ Bill shouted from where Joe had deposited him in a striped lawn-chair. Dick took Lew’s hand as he fastened the gate behind them.   
‘Happy birthday, Bill,’ Lew couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him. Joe grabbed the half-empty bottle that slid from Bill’s hand before it could roll into the swimming pool. Straightening up, he flashed them an apologetic smile.  
‘I knew it was a bad idea to bring up all the booze ourselves. He started celebratin’ before we’d even left town.’  
Lew laughed. ‘Well, come in and you can pour him a glass of water. Hey, Gene!’  
Eugene was sitting around the other side of the pool, being introduced to Faye and Kitty. He raised his beer in greeting. 

‘Nix!’ Babe called out, one arm slung across Eugene’s shoulders. Lew was working his way through a jumble of keys, trying to find which one fitted the back door.   
‘Babe! Happy birthday!’  
Babe awkwardly readjusted the yellow paper crown Luz had just shoved on his head.  
‘Where’s the barbecue at?’  
‘It’s in the garage but I need to unlock it, hang on until I get this damn…’ Lew gave the back door a few smart kicks until it eventually swung open. Turning back to the garden, he raised his voice. ‘Okay, everyone get in here so we can sort out who’s sleeping where, then I’ll get the barbecue.’

Everyone crowded their way into the kitchen: a blinding, sterile expanse of white marble and chrome that opened out into the New England-style living room.   
‘Nice place ya got here, Nix,’ said Bull, running his hand along the back of one sand-coloured sofa. Hoobler gave a low whistle, cut short by Smokey’s elbow in his ribs. The walls were striped pale blue and white, the coffee-table tastefully littered with bowls of shells and candles in mason-jars. So much care and money spent, all to make the place look as if it had been casually thrown together. Lew knew for a fact his mother had obsessed over every detail, right down to the jaunty angle at which the stack of _Traditional Home_ magazines were arranged on the mantelpiece. It hadn’t changed in ten years. Lew looked at Bull, at Johnny Martin and Skip and Perconte. None of them had grown up in places like this. His chest contracted at the look on their faces: a confusion of wonder and disdain. Buck passed them all obliviously and opened the fridge, peering inside.  
‘You got anything to eat in this place, Nix? I’m starved.’   
Buck had been born into this world, just as Lew had. Watching him, Lew felt a stab of envy that Buck could feel more at home here in ten seconds than he himself had felt in his entire life. Then the old familiar wave of contempt rushed over him: for Buck, for his parents, for this place. For himself: the treacherous sliver of his heart that still wished so desperately to belong. Here. Somewhere. Anywhere.

‘Let’s just get this organized then we can start cooking, huh, Buck?’ he replied, leading the way upstairs. Luz, Penkala and Malarkey pushed past him on the way upstairs, wrenching open doors and hooting at the size of each room.  
‘This place is _unreal!_ ’ Malarkey shouted.  
‘It’s like a hotel!’ Penkala hung over the bannister to look down at Lew and the rest of them. ‘How many bedrooms you got?’  
‘Six,’ replied Lew. ‘Babe and Gene, you take Blanche’s room there. Lip and Ron can go in my parents’ room when they get here. There’s three spare rooms upstairs…’  
‘I want this one!’ Luz yelled from the top floor.  
‘…which are for Skip and Faye, Harry and Kitty, then Web and Lieb if they make it without Ron killing them’ Lew continued, rolling his eyes. ‘Dick, my room’s at the end of the hall. I thought you two might want the sofa-bed in the living room,’ he called down to Bill and Joe. ‘I doubt you’re gonna get Bill up these stairs tonight.’  
He couldn’t see Joe, but he heard him laugh. ‘Thanks!’  
‘And what about the rest of us, huh?’ Perconte asked. ‘We just supposed to sleep on the floor with the pups?’  
Lew turned to him. For the first time since they’d arrived, his eyes glittered. ‘For the rest of you, I’ve got a surprise. Come back downstairs.’

The remaining guys trailed back down the stairs after Lew, who led them to a bookcase on the living-room wall.   
‘This is where you can sleep.’  
Reaching into the bookcase, he found a copy of _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_. Making as if to pull it off the shelf, instead he twisted its spine ninety degrees to the left. The book remained suspended, stuck to the back wall, but there was a loud answering click.   
‘What the…’ Johnny peered over his shoulder. From up close, anyone could see that the pages inside were fake: a solid lump of wood. ‘It’s a handle?’  
Lew nodded, grinning as the whole bookcase swung forward on its hinges, revealing a hidden doorway. ‘After you.’

The room was pitch-black inside, but the sound of their voices carrying was enough to betray its size.  
‘Something tells me this ain’t a broom closet,’ came Malarkey’s voice from the darkness. There was a yelp and a crashing noise as someone fell over.   
‘Jesus Christ… Ow, watch my leg!’  
‘Sorry, Skinny!’ called Frank. Lew could hear them helping each other up in the gloom as he searched for the light switch.  
‘Hang on, guys… there we go!’

A galaxy of tiny recessed ceiling lights glowed into life above them. Three rows of huge plush leather sofas spanned almost the entire length of the room, facing a projector screen on the far wall. At the foot of the furthest couch were piled the collection of pillows, blankets and sleeping-bags that had broken Skinny’s fall.   
‘A cinema!’ Smokey grinned, rushing to the back wall where a tall case held a collection of films.   
‘There’s no porn, before you ask,’ Lew quipped. Luz and Penkala were already jumping from sofa to sofa.   
‘It’s gonna be a tight squeeze once everyone’s here,’ said Johnny. ‘Who else is coming in Tab’s car? Grant, Shifty, Spina…’  
‘And Popeye,’ replied Lew. ‘Ah, you’ll be fine. You can sit in Bull’s lap, Johnny!’  
A pillow hit him in the side of the face. 

***

 

‘Hello?’  
A voice sounded faintly outside, just loud enough for Babe to turn his head from where he lay on the pink rose-patterned covers of Blanche Nixon’s bed.   
‘You hear that?’ he glanced at Eugene, who was unpacking their bags.   
‘Hear what?’ he replied, not looking up. He was holding an armful of summer dresses he’d lifted from the bed, looking bewildered as he tried to find somewhere in the mess to put them. Sets of sand-crusted espadrilles and grass-stained tennis shoes lay jumbled where they’d been kicked off. Every drawer bulged with tangles of discarded clothes.   
‘Just throw them anywhere Gene, she’s not gonna notice…’  
‘Hello! Anyone there?’  
‘I knew it!’ Babe stood up on the bed and peered through the window.

‘Babe, take your shoes off!’ Eugene leaned over and swatted at the back of his leg. Babe ignored him, hanging out of the window to observe Lip standing at the gate below.   
‘Hey, Lip! Up here!’  
Ron appeared behind him, holding an enormous cake-box, followed by Lieb and Web with the two dogs. Lip looked up, shielding his eyes against the sun.  
‘Babe! Is Nix here yet?’  
‘Yeah, he’s downstairs I think. Just let yourselves in! Close the gate behind ya, the garden’s enclosed so the dogs can’t get out.’  
‘Alright. Tab and the rest are just behind us, we passed them at the last gas station.’  
‘Tell Nix, get him to start the barbecue. I’m starved!’  
‘Yeah, boy.’

Babe pulled himself back through the window and flopped back onto the bed. Turning onto his stomach, he reached out to take one of the dusty perfume bottles lined up in rows on the dressing table. A couple fell beneath his fingers before he reached one, clattering against bottles of dried-up nail polish and scattered pieces of jewellery.   
‘Babe, leave her stuff alone,’ Eugene murmured as he slipped off his t-shirt, sweat-damp and dusty from the ride.   
‘How old is Blanche anyways? This place is like a time-warp.’  
‘She’s still a teenager. Besides, I don’t think they’ve redecorated in years. Why, you feelin’ old yet?’ Eugene threw the dirty t-shirt at him.  
‘Ugh,’ Babe griped, tossing it to the floor. ‘Y’know, you could probably do with a squirt of this!’ He waved the perfume bottle threateningly at Eugene. ‘How’d you like to smell of…’ he fumbled for one of the boxes Blanche had kept. “Floral with a vintage edge… sophisticated with a touch of whimsy?”  
Eugene chuckled. ‘Sounds very me.’  
‘Well, let’s see-’

‘What- hey!’   
Eugene reacted too late as Babe grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the bed, rolling on top of him.   
‘Hmm…’ Babe buried his face in the crook of Eugene’s neck, brushing his lips against the exact spot he knew would make Eugene yelp and blush. ‘Top notes of aftershave and engine oil…’  
‘Babe, quit-’ Eugene’s laugh turned into a shivering breath as Babe bit down on his collarbone. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat of Babe’s tongue soothe where he had bitten.  
‘Cayenne pepper, coconut shampoo…’ Eugene’s struggles to free himself became increasingly half-hearted as Babe kissed his way along his hairline, then down across his cheekbone. He trembled in the sharp, stunning moment before their lips met. 

Babe pulled back with a lust-swollen smirk.   
‘Oh, and a hint of the bacon cheeseburger you ate at that shitty gas station earlier!’  
Eugene huffed, covering his mouth self-consciously. ‘You are such an ass,’ he said, giving Babe a shove. His voice was muffled as he turned his face away, pressing it into the bedsheets. Babe ducked his head and giggled against Eugene’s chest.  
‘Aw c’mon, I was just jokin’, don’t be like that… I _like_ bacon cheeseburgers.’  
‘Ain’t exactly sexy though, is it,’ Eugene muttered.  
‘Aw, Gene…’ Babe kissed the glum lines of Eugene’s face until they softened into a smile. ‘Better than smelling like a teenage girl, right?’ he shook the perfume bottle at him with a grin.  
‘Well, let’s see!’ 

Quick as a flash, Eugene grabbed the bottle from him and caught Babe with a copious spritz right on the neck. Babe yelled and flinched backwards but it was too late: the perfume had already trickled down and started soaking into his shirt.   
‘You _asshole!_ ’ he cried, tickling Eugene mercilessly as he tried to wrestle the bottle back out of his grip.  
‘Don’t, please! Truce! Truce!’ Eugene curled up into a ball, trying in vain to escape the tickling.  
‘I’ll give you a truce, ya little-’

They paused breathlessly at the sound of heavy footsteps mounting the stairs outside, then the door next to theirs opening and closing. Eugene took advantage of the distraction to throw the perfume bottle underneath the bed, then sat up, smoothing his hair. The muffled voices from next-door became clearer as their breaths steadied.  
 _‘Ron.’_  
A low, deep laugh vibrated through the wall. _‘Am I in trouble?’_  
 _‘You were being cruel.’_  
‘I was joking.’  
‘Yeah, well, your sense of humour takes a lot of getting used to.’

‘Should we..?’ Babe whispered to Eugene, nodding towards the door. ‘If there’s one person I don’t wanna get caught eavesdropping on, it’s Ron.’  
Eugene nodded in agreement. ‘We should go help out with the cookin’ anyhow.’  
Grabbing a clean t-shirt on his way out, Eugene led Babe back out into the hall, wincing at every floorboard that creaked under their feet.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party gets under way. Ron and Lip have an important conversation.

‘I knew Lew’s parents were rich, but _this_ place…’ Lip dumped his bag next to the bed, scratching his head as he looked around. ‘It’s like a showroom!’  
Everything in Lew’s parents’ room was white- the bedframe, the covers, the furniture- all except one wall painted in a carefully neutral sandy tone. It was as plain and featureless a landscape as the kitchen downstairs. Lip doubted there had ever been a meal cooked on that stove or a dish washed in that sink. He imagined Lew’s parents sleeping in this room, never touching, stiff and still and unresponsive as figurines put to bed in a doll’s house.  
‘These houses are all the same,’ said Ron, picking up a crystal figurine from the night-stand. Lip took it from his hand and put it back just so, covering the bare mark left in the dust by its absence. He raised his eyebrows.

‘If I have to frisk you before we leave, I will.’  
Ron’s smile was wicked, tongue running briefly along the sharp white flash of his teeth.  
‘Oh, really?’ he swayed forward, breathing hot against Lip’s neck. Lip gave a huff of laughter and pressed his hand flat against Ron’s chest.  
‘That was supposed to be a deterrent, not an incentive.’  
Ron’s laughter thrummed low in his throat. Lip felt the usual dizzy shift of his blood: some senses blurring as others sharpened, the room and the house and the party outside dimming before the flare of Ron’s fingers circling his wrist.   
‘Ron, Lew’s parents sleep in here, it’s not…’  
‘It’s nothing,’ Ron breathed into his mouth.

It wasn’t that, Lip knew. Not really. It was the studied perfection of this place, pressing on him, everything so neurotically stainless and symmetrical. Lip couldn’t help but recall the way voices carried so clearly from outside, how the open-plan lower storey left no corner unseen. He imagined Lew and Blanche as children, expected always to be seen and not heard; to look but not touch. They had been little more than accessories to this life: another ornament placed in the window for passers-by to marvel at. He wondered at the kind of people who would spend so much money appearing to be happy. A wave of claustrophobia engulfed him and he pushed against Ron’s chest, harder this time.

‘Ron.’  
Ron pulled back, laughing, oblivious. ‘Am I in trouble?’  
Lip had forgotten all about the car journey. The memory of somewhere other than this place brought a relief so sudden and sweet he almost laughed.  
‘You were being cruel,’ he managed, trying to keep his lips from quirking.  
‘I was joking.’  
‘Yeah, well, your sense of humour takes a lot of getting used to.’  
Ron sighed and flopped down on the bed. ‘I’ll stick to knock-knock jokes for the remainder of the weekend, then.’ He smirked as Lip rolled his eyes. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Ron looked around the room once more. The lines of his mouth fell, his face taking on a withdrawn, stony expression that to a stranger might have looked like anger. Lip recognised it as a sign of deep thought.   
‘What?’ he asked softly, beginning to unpack their bags. Ron was silent for a moment longer.  
‘I’m surprised Lewis offered this place for the party.’  
Lip smiled internally at the use of Lew’s full name. ‘Why?’  
‘If his parents are anything like my parents- which, judging by the look of this place, they are- I’d rather have spent a weekend on the surface of the sun.’

Ron’s tone was wry, almost disinterested, as if he’d talked to Lip about his family countless times. The total absence of childhood photographs in Ron’s apartment hadn’t seemed quite so conspicuous in light of his rather Spartan living arrangements, and besides, Lip had known better than to ask. Now, a thousand questions clamoured in the silence. He bit his tongue, allowing no sign of the leap in his heart but for an almost indiscernible pause before he tossed his wash bag onto the side-table.   
‘You never talk about them,’ he ventured finally. It wasn’t a question. He turned his back, shaking out a pair of jeans now crumpled from the overnight bag. 

Lip couldn’t imagine Ron as a child. Knowing he’d been one in a place like this, though, made certain things a little clearer. For one thing, the man was fluent in two dead languages but would barely string a sentence together in English for anyone. And something which had always rubbed Lip the wrong way: when it came to money he could be indifferent to the point of recklessness, leaving tips twice the cost of the meal or taking a cab for two blocks simply because it was raining. There had always been something reminiscent of Lew and Buck in the way he viewed money as if it were a tiresome encumbrance: a trait which Lip had always thought of as conflicting with his habit of petty theft. That made sense now, in the same way as Lew’s drinking. Teenage acts of rebellion left to solidify first into habits and later compulsions, by parents who didn’t care enough to even notice. 

‘It’s not important to me.’  
Ron laid back against the covers, folding his arms beneath his head. He stared placidly at the ceiling. Lip thought of his little brother in a black suit; sheaves of final notice letters trembling in his mother’s hands. His teenage years spent negotiating bailiffs and child services, a smile hiding the sick twist in his stomach that could be hunger or fear. The man of the family at ten years old, fighting and fighting and fighting to keep them together. _It’s not important to me_. Something hot and cruel rose up in his chest: the urge to shake Ron, to yell at him. It passed in an instant. He looked around. The money used to build this place could have saved the Liptons a hundred times over, yet it had not been enough to buy what made them worth saving. Turning back to Ron, who lay with such effortless solitude on that huge, empty bed, he sighed. 

‘We don’t have to talk about them. Unless you want to.’  
Lip stiffened in surprise as Ron sat up, reaching out to take his hand. After a moment he relaxed into the silence, running his thumb reassuringly across Ron’s palm.   
‘Not yet.’ Ron’s voice was quiet. Lip nodded.  
‘Okay.’   
From outside they could hear the faint crush of tyres on gravel: a chorus of slamming doors and a laugh that Lip recognised.   
‘We should go,’ he said, squeezing Ron’s hand lightly. There were words still to be said, but they could wait. He would give Ron his silence. For now, “not yet” was all he needed: the promise of a tomorrow that would hold such conversations. A tomorrow that was theirs. Ron stood, still holding onto his hand.  
‘Okay.’

***

 

‘Barbecue’s lit!’ Lew yelled, sticking his head around the kitchen door.  
‘Just gimme a minute and I’ll cook,’ Babe called from where he was helping Joe load the last of the booze into the fridge.   
‘Consider it your job interview,’ said Joe. ‘If nobody dies from salmonella you’re hired, alright?’  
Babe laughed. ‘Tough gig.’

‘So you boys started without us, huh?’ came a familiar southern drawl from behind Lew.  
‘Popeye!’  
Lew held the door open as Popeye, Grant and Spina hauled their bags inside, followed by Tab and Shifty carrying a huge box between them.   
‘What ya got in there, Floyd? Condoms?’ Lew joked. ‘We’re only here for the weekend…’  
Tab dropped the box with a thud, rolling his eyes. ‘Hilarious. It’s a water slide!’

Dick looked up from where he’d been trying to pry open a can of dog food for the past ten minutes.  
‘Don’t show it to Luz, for pete’s sake… not after the kiddie-pool disaster of last ti- ow!’ he drew his hand back sharply and inspected a welling red scratch on his thumb. Lew sighed, grabbing the can from him.   
‘Here, gimme that.’ The three puppies milled around their feet, sniffing expectantly. ‘You guys can put your stuff down there,’ Lew said, pointing towards the hidden book-case door that now stood open beside him. 

‘Thanks,’ Grant led the way, pausing as they passed the fridge. ‘Hey Babe,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘You smell nice.’  
Eugene almost choked on the glass of water he’d just poured from himself. Babe’s face flushed red to the tips of his ears as he turned and aimed a kick in Eugene’s direction.  
‘Shut up!’  
‘So _that’s_ what that smell is!’ said Lew, helping Dick to serve out the dog food. ‘I was expecting Ron to try and make off with the family silver, but stealing my kid sister’s perfume? Really, Babe?’

‘Your silver is perfectly safe.’  
Everyone froze at the sight of Ron and Lip standing at the foot of the stairs. The moment of horrified silence was broken ridiculously by the dogs’ nametags jingling softly against their bowls as they ate. Ron gestured towards the flatscreen TV mounted on the living-room wall.  
‘I like the look of that television, though.’  
From beside him, Lip shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Babe let out a snort of nervous laughter, and suddenly they were all laughing: great, clear belly-laughs that cut through the tension in an instant. All except Ron, who simply turned to raise his eyebrows at Lip, a grin ghosting across his face.   
‘I thought you were going to stick to knock-knock jokes,’ Lip said, wiping tears of mirth from the corner of his eye.  
‘From what you’ve told me, I think your friend Luz already has a monopoly on those.’

‘Somebody say my name?’ Luz appeared from the cinema room just as Ron and Lip made their way out of the kitchen door and into the garden. ‘Hey, is that a water slide?!’  
Dick let out a sigh of resignation as he dropped the tin of dog food in the trash-can.   
‘When I said “no kiddie-pool this time” I didn’t mean “bring something even more dangerous instead”, boys.’  
‘What’s dangerous? Aw sweet, is that a water slide?’ Lieb called out as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his arm slung around Web’s shoulders.  
‘For goodness sake…’ Dick shared an exasperated look with Lew as he left to check on the barbecue.

‘Hey, Lieb! I got you a present!’ Luz started rifling in the pocket of his jeans.  
Web scratched his head. ‘I thought we were doing presents after- oh.’  
With a grin, Luz brandished a large, sparkly ‘birthday boy’ badge in their direction.  
‘You pin that thing on me and I’ll break your fuckin’ arm,’ Lieb said evenly, not even breaking his stride as he made his way outside. Luz scoffed.  
‘Okay, mister grouchy… here, Web! _Web!_ ’   
Web took the badge from him with a wink. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘Hey Luz, think fast!’  
‘What- _Jesus_ Don!’  
Luz yelped and turned around, clutching the now rather damp seat of his pants as Malarkey and Penkala bounded out of the cinema room brandishing armfuls of water-pistols.  
‘Aw don’t be such a baby, here take one… Skip!’  
Malarkey tossed a pistol to Luz and another to Skip, who was making his way downstairs with Faye in tow.  
‘Get behind me, baby!’ Skip jumped in front of Faye and squirted Penk square in the face.  
‘Get behind _you_? You’re a lousy shot, give _me_ one, Luz!’  
‘Sure thing, Faye-’ Luz made as if to throw her a gun and instead began shooting at her. Faye screamed and ducked behind one of the pristine cream sofas.  
‘Guys, guys! Not in the house, c’mon!’ yelled Lew. ‘Fuck… how old are you, twelve?’

‘Hey, Shifty! Perconte! Get up here!’ Malarkey shouted as the rest of them piled out into the garden. The others who were still downstairs soon ran out of the cinema room in hot pursuit, ignoring Lew’s terrified sprint to catch a vase they sent toppling off one of the side-tables.   
‘Y’know, you try to do something nice…’ he muttered, hiding the vase in a cupboard. ‘You fancy a go on the water slide, Joe?’  
Filling up an ice-bucket in the kitchen, Joe shook his head.  
‘I dunno Nix, those things are dangerous,’ he said, face deadpan. ‘A fella could lose a leg if he’s not careful.’

‘Babe, the barbecue’s just about- everything okay?’  
Dick stood in the doorway, looking perplexed at the sight of Babe, Eugene and Lew all doubled over and wheezing with laughter. Joe answered him with a shake of the head, picking up the ice-bucket now filled with beers.   
‘Don’t ask. You wanna help me with this?’  
‘Sure,’ Dick grabbed one handle. ‘Oh, and Lew, the boys brought some… uh… inflatables for the pool. You might want to double-check your neighbours aren’t home.’  
Lew straightened up, his cheeks still flushed from laughing. ‘What? What does that mean?’  
Dick shot him a meaningful look. ‘Just come outside. And we can start cooking soon Babe, you better come too.’

As they made their way into the garden, silence settled over the house once more. Plumes of dust swirled through streams of afternoon light. As Lew turned and looked back through the doorway, it looked just as it had always done. Just an empty house, where nobody lived anymore. Smiling, he turned his face to the sunlight, and went outside.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys come under some heavy fire, then it's time for cake and presents. Luz brings along an uninvited guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than usual, my holidays are over so sadly I don't have the luxury of being able to write all day anymore.  
> I know a few of you are following along, so just to let you know, this series is still written several chapters in advance and updates will still be posted weekly. If I think you'll have to wait any longer than that in the future I'll forewarn you in the chapter before!

‘Luz. What is that?’  
‘Aw, don’t tell me you ain’t seen one before, Lew. A man of your proclivities?’  
‘Unlike you, I’ve never had occasion to buy one myself. Please tell me it isn’t second-hand.’  
‘Ha-ha. Fresh outta the box, see?’  
Lew moved away from the edge of the pool and took the box from Luz.  
‘ _Randy Roger the Inflatable Boy Toy_ ,’ he read, deadpan. ‘I do not believe you just “happened to pick this up” with the blow-up dolphin and the lilo.’

‘Aw c’mon Lew,’ Malarkey chimed in, running over to sling an arm around Luz’s shoulders. He was breathing heavily, his hair soaked from the water-fight still raging noisily on the lawn. ‘Roger looks like he’s having a great time. He’s clearly very… excited to be here.’  
Luz snorted with laughter. Lew sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching.  
‘Boys, if one of the neighbours sees that, they’ll call the police.’  
‘And say what?!’ Luz gestured towards the offending inflatable. ‘It’s perfectly safe, we put water-wings on him and everything!’  
Shaking his head, Lew fought to keep his face straight. ‘I wish you could’ve put an extra one over his… his…’  
‘Rudder?’ Malarkey suggested. The three of them cracked up.

‘No, but… but seriously, guys,’ Lew wheezed eventually. ‘Can you just turn him face-down, then? At least until after we’ve eaten?’  
‘That thing is creepy as hell!’ Bill shouted drunkenly from across the patio, through a mouthful of burger. ‘I swear it’s makin’ eye contact with me!’  
For Malarkey, the opportunity was too good to be missed. ‘Oh yeah, which eye?’ he bellowed.  
‘Jesus Christ…’ Lew muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Leaning forward in his lawn chair, Joe grabbed Bill’s collar as he listed dangerously to one side.  
‘Will you boys stop distractin’ him? He’s got a whole cow’s worth of burgers to eat if he’s gonna soak up all that booze!’  
‘Sorry, Joe!’ Malarkey called, pulling at Luz’s sleeve. ‘C’mon, we need fire support: we’re gettin’ our asses soaked out there!’   
‘Hey, wait! What about Roger?!’ Lew shouted after them as they ran back toward the water-fight. 

‘Roger?’ came Dick’s voice from behind him, followed by an amused chuckle. Lew couldn’t help but laugh in reply as he leaned back against Dick’s chest.  
‘If my parents find out about this…’  
Dick looped an arm around his waist. ‘I think you’ve tarnished the family name enough by now for them to expect no less.’ He gestured abortively towards Roger. ‘Couldn’t we just… put some swim shorts on him or something?’  
Lew turned, grinning. ‘You wanna volunteer yours?’  
Dick flushed. ‘Well, I didn’t mean… uh…’ Lew’s grin widened as the tips of Dick’s ears went red. ‘I mean, I’m not sure mine would fit. He’s rather… well-endowed.’  
Laughing, Lew pulled Dick closer by his belt-loops. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Dick…’ he let one hand skim down the top of Dick’s thigh. ‘I’m sure if you tried, you could provide good old Roger with some pretty _stiff_ competition…’  
‘Alright, alright!’ Dick squirmed out of Lew’s grasp, looking thoroughly flustered. Lew couldn’t help but giggle at him.

‘Hey, get out of it!’   
Dick and Lew turned, distracted by Bull’s shout as he and Johnny got caught in the crossfire. Skip had leapt clean over them as they sat on the lawn trying to unpack the waterslide, leaving Popeye and Shifty to soak the inadvertent bystanders in his place.   
‘You want us to set this thing up or not?!’ Johnny yelled after them.  
‘Sorry!’ Shifty called back, promptly running smack into Tab and Grant from where they’d been hiding in the rose bushes.   
‘Pop! Backup!’ he shouted as they bombarded him.

‘Kinda busy here, Shifty!’   
Popeye was fending off Skinny and Perconte, the three of them dodging their way through the fruit trees at the bottom of the garden.   
‘Skinny! Go left!’ Frank yelled, trying to cut off Popeye’s escape route.   
‘OPEN FIRE!’ Kitty’s voice rang out seemingly from nowhere, startling them. Suddenly the branches above them began heaving and a hail of water rained down.  
‘It’s an ambush!’ shouted Skinny, his voice drowned out by warlike shrieks as Faye and Kitty dropped from their hiding place in the trees above.  
‘Retreat!’  
Popeye and Skinny joined forces, dragging Frank up from where he’d slipped on the wet grass in shock.  
‘You okay, Perco?’  
‘They shot me in the ass!’  
‘MEDIC!’  
‘Hang on, boys!’ Spina sprinted over and took hold of Frank’s legs, then promptly tripped over one of the dogs and dropped him again.

The girls’ victory celebrations were short-lived, their triumphant shouts soon turning to screams as Malarkey, Smokey and Hoob made a charge for them.  
‘Skip!’ Faye called, ‘We’re running out of ammo here!’  
‘I’m comin’, baby!’   
Skip sprinted across the lawn and tackled Malarkey, Hoobler and Smokey tripping right over them as they fell.  
‘Skip, you traitor!’ shouted Malarkey, scrambling for his gun. ‘Get him!’  
Skip made it to his feet and ran off, the others following in hot pursuit.

Over on the patio, Dick and Lew took a seat next to Harry, who was utterly ignoring the water-fight in favour of the cheeseburger he was enjoying. Buck lay dozing on a sun lounger next to him. The smell of smoke was now rich in the air, the slap and sizzle of cooking meat drifting over from where Babe stood manning the grill nearby.   
‘Not gonna ride in on your white horse to defend Kitty?’ Lew quipped, pulling up a lawn-chair. Harry scoffed through a mouthful of burger.  
‘Trust me, that girl can take care of herself,’ he nodded to where Kitty was now sneaking up behind Tab and Grant, still distracted in their chase for Shifty. ‘But I’ll defend those chicken skewers she likes to the death, so just keep your hands off ‘em.’

‘There’s enough here to feed an army, Harry,’ Babe called over. ‘And besides, if she don’t come for ‘em soon they’re gonna start burning. You want somethin’, boys?’  
Dick peered over Lew’s shoulder. ‘What’s ready?’  
‘Burgers, ribs, steaks if you like ‘em rare… corn cobs are done, too. There’s salad, coleslaw and burger stuff on that table.’ Babe waved his tongs over to where Eugene was loading salad onto a plate.  
‘Who eats _leaves_ at a barbecue…’ Lew grumbled disdainfully. ‘Gimme some steak, Babe, the bloodiest you got.’  
‘Get in line, man, that one’s already reserved for me!’ Lieb interjected from where he and Web were lounging by the side of the pool. ‘You can have the second-bloodiest, Lew.’  
‘Lieb,’ Lew smirked, ‘what’s that you’re wearing?’  
Lieb shifted uncomfortably, the “birthday boy” badge sparkling against his chest.   
‘What, a fella can’t have a little fun on his birthday? Jesus Christ, some people…’ he shook his head, as if to hide the blush that burned across his cheeks. Beside him, Web shared a smirk with Lew. 

‘Here, Babe, let me take over. You grab one of those chicken skewers or something and take a break.’ Lip picked up the spare set of tongs and began sidling Babe out of the way of the grill.  
‘Honestly Lip, it’s fine-’  
‘It’s your birthday,’ Lip insisted, flipping the burgers. ‘Go sit by the pool, whisper sweet nothings in Eugene’s ear. Enjoy yourself.’  
Defeated, Babe relinquished the grill. ‘Alright, alright. You gonna cut my food up into little squares too, mom?’  
Lip smiled quietly, picking up one of the paper plates stacked nearby. ‘Here, Dick, take some of these ribs. Your steaks are ready too, boys.’

As they passed out the food, Lip glanced up at the water-fight. Bull and Johnny had successfully spread the water-slide across the lawn and were grappling with the garden hose. Meanwhile, Faye and Kitty had recruited most of the guys into a large team, now intent on hunting down Luz and Malarkey. Shouts and echoed laughter mixed with the dogs’ excited barks as they gambolled amongst flurries of passing feet.  
‘Hey, calling the cast of Stripes! Grub’s up!’ Lip called, waving. ‘Ceasefire!’

Gradually they began drabbling back towards the patio, out of breath and soaked to the skin. Smokey had a long grass-stain streaked all the way up his arm. Shifty was covered in leaves and seed-pods from where he’d hidden in the bushes to snipe at passers-by. Skip brought Faye in on piggyback, one of her shoes hanging off by the ankle-strap, the pair of them dishevelled but victorious. Luz and Malarkey looked like drowned rats, hair plastered to their heads, shirts clinging wetly to their chests.   
‘Oh look, it’s The Dirty Dozen,’ Lew muttered, busying himself with cutting his steak.   
‘Your math is way off,’ replied Spina, throwing himself down on a sun-lounger. 

Dick shook his head at Luz and Malarkey as he stood to help pass round the plates.  
‘You two had better get changed first: you’re dripping!’  
Luz grinned. ‘Ah, we’ll dry out in no time, the sun’s still high…’  
‘Are you kidding?’ said Lip. ‘You’re so wet, you’re liable to put out the barbecue if you stand too close. Go and change, I’ll save you both a plate.’  
As the pair of them waddled off, the others stretched themselves out to dry on the patio. Joe handed out cold beers from the ice bucket, careful to hide the stronger stuff at the bottom from Bill and Lew’s watchful eyes. 

After much cursing and scratching of heads, Bull and Johnny finally attached the hosepipe to the water slide, eliciting a rowdy cheer from their spectators.  
‘Come and get some ribs, boys,’ Lip grinned at them as they approached.  
‘I think I’ve earned ‘em,’ replied Bull, stacking several burgers onto his plate for good measure.   
‘Ooh! Are those chicken skewers?’ Kitty leaned over the barbecue.  
Lip nodded. ‘I think Harry’s been stockpiling them for you. Don’t any of you fill up too much, though. There’s cake for after.’  
A good-natured armistice fell, broken only by the sound of eating, and the faintest hush of ocean waves drifting across the now-peaceful lawn. 

***

 

_‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…’_  
Lip and Dick did their best to lead the tuneless drone that accompanied the birthday cake on its journey from the kitchen to the patio. Both Ron and Buck had been required to carry its enormous three-tiered weight, although this didn’t stop Ron from singing along in a surprisingly respectable baritone.   
_‘Happy birthday, dear… Bill-Lieb-and-Baaaabe…’_  
The song descended for a moment into a chaos of mumbles and giggling, accompanied by the clinking of numerous empty beer-bottles.  
 _‘Happy birthday to yooooou!’_

Dick instigated a round of cheers as Ron and Buck set the cake carefully down. It bristled with candles, letting off its own heat-haze and setting an orange-gold glow across the crowd of gathered faces. Dusk fell in pale violet around the house, odd scattered clouds tipped with searing crimson.   
‘Jesus… put enough candles on it, did ya, Ron?’ Lieb leaned over the cake, then reeled back at the wave of hot air, his cheeks flushed.  
‘Actually, no,’ Ron replied. Large slabs of white buttercream icing were already beginning to melt, sliding glacially down the cake’s monstrous sides.  
‘I made him stop at fifty in case the whole thing just burst into flames,’ said Lip, leaning into Ron’s side as Ron slung an arm around his shoulders.   
‘….Singed my damn eyebrows off…’ Lieb muttered, rubbing his reddened face. 

‘Alright, birthday boys, get blowin’! I wanna try this cake!’   
Bill, who had sobered up to a state of only moderate drunkenness, had eaten more than anyone and was still picking on the last of the chicken skewers Kitty had been unable to finish. Joe leaned in close to his ear.  
‘You _are_ one of the birthday boys, Bill.’  
Bill blinked at him. ‘Right! C’mon then, uh…’  
‘Lieb and Babe,’ Joe prompted under his breath.  
‘Lieb and Babe!’ He yelled, spreading his arms. ‘I love you guys!’  
Rolling their eyes at each other, Babe and Lieb hoisted Bill from his chair and helped him stagger over to the cake.  
‘Make a wish!’ Kitty called from where she sat in Harry’s lap.  
‘I wish not to get burned alive by this fuckin’ cake,’ replied Babe.  
‘One, two, three-’

By the time they’d succeeded in blowing out all fifty candles, one half of the cake had subsided dramatically under the heat and the weight of its own icing. Diving to the rescue, Lip just about stopped half of it from ending up on the ground by holding one side together with a paper plate.  
‘Quick, cut the damn thing before the other half gives!’ he urged. Ron swiftly began dishing out portions, relieving some of the pressure on the cake’s enormous structure. Sighing with relief, Lip straightened up, licking his icing-coated fingers.  
‘I don’t think the three-hour cab journey did it any favours.’  
Ron looked up at him with raised eyebrows as he cut the last slice.   
‘Just wait until you try it.’

The laughter and chatter around them subsided as everyone ate.  
‘Mmm…’ Web tapped the side of his plate with his fork. ‘From the outside there it looked a little, uh…’ catching Ron’s eye, he quailed. ‘But it’s great, really!’  
‘Reminds me of someone I know,’ replied Lieb, giving Web a pointed stare. Web looked up sharply, drawing breath as if readying himself for another of their traditional public bust-ups. Instead, he scooped up a large dollop of icing and caught Lieb right on the nose.   
‘Shut up Lieb,’ he retorted, grinning.  
‘Ah c’mon,’ Lieb spluttered, wiping his face. ‘It’s my fuckin’ birthday and this is what I get, huh? Abuse!’  
‘Don’t be such a baby!’ Web leaned forward and kissed Lieb’s frosted nose. ‘You taste nice.’

‘You two are disgusting,’ Lew called as he passed by on his way to the house. ‘And speaking of what you get, Lieb, can someone come and help me with the presents?’  
‘Sure, hang on…’ Dick set down his plate and followed Lew into the house, the two of them emerging a few moments later with two large boxes full of gifts.  
‘Everyone just threw theirs into the pile,’ said Lew as he set down one of the boxes, ‘so just search for the ones with your name on ‘em.’  
‘How do we know who they’re from?’ asked Bill, shaking one package vigorously next to his ear before throwing it to Lieb.  
‘This one’s definitely from Nix.’ Babe held up a distinctly bottle-shaped parcel, wrapped in pages from yesterday’s newspaper.  
‘Aw c’mon,’ Lew huffed. ‘Dick probably got you all something sickeningly heartfelt and thoughtful: I claim partial credit for his gifts too.’

‘What is this…’ Bill ripped the paper from a large silver cocktail-shaker.  
‘I figured since you’re in the market for a new barman again you could use this in the meantime,’ Lip grinned.  
‘Aw, thanks…’ Bill tossed the shaker from hand to hand, then looked up, a flash of inspiration crossing his face.  
‘Hey Lip, how’d _you_ fancy a part-time job, huh?’  
Lip chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Thanks, but, uh… I already got something. Bussing tables at this little cake shop. Maybe you boys have heard of it.’  
Ron cast him a sly look. 

‘Aw, you guys!’  
Babe was busy unwrapping a dartboard in its own wooden case.  
‘From Luz and I,’ said Buck. ‘We should have a game later!’  
Babe scoffed. ‘Nah, I ain’t fallin’ for that one again, Buck. You guys cleaned me out last time!’  
‘Just don’t let Dick anywhere near it if you wanna take it home in one piece!’ Lew called out. Dick reddened, butting Lew affectionately with his shoulder. 

‘That one’s from me,’ Eugene added quietly as Babe picked out the next present.   
Babe paused. ‘Should I open it in private?’ he asked, with a salacious grin.   
Eugene rolled his eyes. ‘No, Edward.’  
‘Damn.’ Babe laughed. Ripping the blue-patterned wrapping paper, he pulled out what looked like a t-shirt.  
‘What… oh, ha-ha!’  
The cloth unfurled to reveal itself as an apron.  
‘Figured you’d be needin’ one,’ said Eugene with a smile.   
‘You really ok with me wearin’ this at work? I’m likely to be inundated with requests, and not for my famous Eggs Sardou!’  
Turning it around, Babe showed it to the others. “Kiss the Cook” was emblazoned across the chest-panel. 

Lieb’s laughter was cut short as he looked back to his own present, simply bundled up inside an envelope.  
‘Alright, who the hell thought _this_ was funny?!’ he insisted, brandishing a stack of vouchers.  
‘What? What is it?’ asked Web. Skip, Malarkey and Penkala went suspiciously quiet.  
 _‘Crash Course Driving School: this voucher entitles the bearer to five hours of driving lessons!’_  
Lip’s shoulders shook silently. Dick ducked his head, biting his bottom lip. Hoob snorted with laughter, then yelped as Bull smacked him round the back of the head. Lieb reddened.  
‘Y’know, I give you ungrateful bastards _free rides_ whenever you want ‘em, outta the _goodness of my heart_ -’  
‘Lieb, Lieb!’ Web interjected before he could get going. ‘Look, here, open this one instead. C’mon, it was just a joke…’  
Lieb deflated a little, taking the next present from Web. The rest of the guys took the opportunity to take some deep breaths.  
 _‘Was that you?’_ Lew hissed, leaning over towards Skip, Malarkey and Penkala. Penk just waggled his eyebrows at him. 

Meanwhile, Lieb had opened the next gift. He sat for a while, totally silent, then looked up.  
‘You boys think this is a fuckin’ joke?’  
He raised a pair of giant fuzzy dice.   
Having just managed to compose themselves, the entire group burst into gales of helpless laughter, leaning against one another and wiping tears from their eyes. Lieb looked like he was about to explode.  
‘Okay, okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best one to pick,’ Web patted Lieb on the shoulder, trying to stifle a smile. ‘Here, open mine. It’s not driving-related in any way, I swear.’  
Lieb threw him a dirty look as he took the parcel.  
‘Careful, don’t rip it too hard.’

Tearing the paper slowly, Lieb pulled out two slightly frayed and ancient-looking annuals, their covers licked with blazes of lurid colour.  
 _‘Dick Tracy… Flash Gordon_?’ Lieb shuffled the books in his hands, looking up with a crinkled brow. Web smiled at him.  
‘First editions. Took me ages to find ‘em. Any reader should always start with the old classics, I recokon. No matter what the genre.’  
Lieb flicked through the _Flash Gordon_ annual. ‘So these’ll be better than _Garfield_?’  
‘Well, I can’t promise they’ll feature any lasagne.’  
‘Who’s got lasagne?!’ called Bill, looking up from the copy of _101 Best Beers in the World_ he’d just unwrapped. Lieb laughed, shaking his head at Web.  
‘Thanks, professor.’

‘Hey, uh…’ Luz stood up, peering out into the darkening dusk. ‘Not to rain on anyone’s parade here but Lew, didn’t you say your neighbours weren’t gonna be around this weekend?’  
‘What?’ Lew looked up, following Luz’s gaze. Over the hedge that separated next door’s garden from their own, they could see lights being turned on in the upper storey. Faint echoes of voices reached them on the warm evening breeze, silhouettes flickering across the empty lawn.  
‘I thought they only came at Christmas?’ said Dick.  
Lew scratched his head helplessly. ‘They do!’  
Web got to his feet, craning his neck to get a look over the hedge. ‘Then who _is_ that?!’  
From around the side of the house, they heard the unmistakeable creak of the garden gate opening. The puppies, who’d been dozing in a pile by the side of the pool, woke up and began to yap excitedly. Dick turned to Lew and took his hand.  
‘Looks like we’re about to find out.’


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the neighbours!  
> Lew and Kitty go head-to-head in a fearsome drinking contest.

‘Lewis Nixon!’  
‘Oh, God…’  
Dick watched Lew’s expression in the gloom. ‘Who is it?’  
He shook his head, jaw tight. ‘I don’t know.’   
‘Lew-Lew! Where are yoooou?’  
Suddenly, Lew’s face blanched in recognition. ‘Oh, _God_ …’  
Beside him, Luz’s laughter echoed across the garden. ‘Well, would ya look at that!’

A scattering of outside lights flickered on as the dying sun dropped below the tree-line, bathing the lawn in brightness once again. Now the boys could see, approaching them from across the grass, a gaggle of young women clearly in the same state of inebriation as Bill.   
‘Now _that_ is a sight for sore eyes,’ Malarkey muttered in Luz’s ear, throwing an arm around his shoulders.  
‘Lew!’ One of the girls, diamonds shining in her ears, her feet bare as she carried in one hand a pair of shoes that cost more than a college education, waved vigorously at him. Lew raised a sheepish hand in reply. 

‘It’s Teresa Van Der Haas,’ he muttered through a forced smile. ‘They must’ve had the same idea as us: “while the cat’s away” and all that.’  
‘Wait…’ Grant, who along with Skinny and Smokey had been whispering amongst themselves, suddenly pricked up his ears. ‘Van Der Haas? As in… Van Der Haas Oil & Gas?’  
‘That’s the one.’  
‘Jesus Christ!’ Tab, who up until this point had been disinterestedly finishing his cake, sprang to his feet to get a look at the girls. There were six of them: all long, tanned limbs and cascades of glossy, perfumed hair. Between them they carried three nearly-empty bottles of rosé wine and what looked suspiciously like a Magnum of champagne. Hoobler peered over Lew’s shoulder.  
‘What? What’s the big deal?’  
Tab rolled his eyes. ‘The big deal is her daddy’s worth about a hundred billion dollars a fucking year.’

Faye leaned over from where she was sitting on Skip’s knee and nudged Kitty.  
‘Second from the left: the redhead. She look familiar to you?’  
Kitty took a sip of her drink, then glanced surreptitiously over the top of her glass at the approaching wall of designer dresses and veneered teeth. Eyes widening, her gaze snapped back towards Faye.  
‘It’s Eloise Grimaldi!’  
‘Who now?’ interjected Harry, tipsily playing with Kitty’s curls.   
‘Eloise Grimaldi! She’s a minor, _minor_ member of the Monaco royal family. She’s on that new show… ugh, what’s the name again… Faye and I just watched it a few days ago...’  
‘ _Tiaras and Trust Funds_!’   
Web stared back blankly as everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged. ‘…What?! It’s a good show!’

As Lieb rolled his eyes and wandered off to talk to Luz, Faye leaned conspiratorially towards Web.   
‘What did you think of Starlight Lulabelle’s stunt at the country club?’  
Web huffed dramatically. ‘I am _so_ done with her. I mean, filling the Jacuzzi with champagne was pretty badass, but driving the golf-cart into the foyer? She almost killed that Senator and his wife!’  
Faye nodded. ‘She’s out of control. Next stop, rehab, just you wait and see!’  
Harry giggled. ‘Starlight Lulabelle?’  
‘Yeah,’ replied Kitty, hiding the rest of his beer under the sun-lounger. ‘Her dad was in that band… they were really famous in the eighties?’  
‘Oh yeah, that band,’ Harry joked, earning himself a pinch on the ear.

‘Lew, _honey!_ It’s been _so long!_ ’  
Teresa, her dark swathes of hair bouncing like she was in a shampoo commercial, bounded forward with arms outstretched. Leaning close to Dick with an apologetic look, Lew whispered in his ear.  
‘She, uh, had kind of a crush on me when we were kids. Sorry.’  
Dick just gave a huff of laughter under his breath. ‘I think you’re gonna be even sorrier in a minute. Watch out.’  
Lew barely had time to react before Teresa descended on him with a flurry of air-kisses.  
‘Woah! Uh, hey, Teresa. Long time, no see.’  
‘Oh my _god_ , I know, right? When was it… daddy’s garden party for the Sheikh’s visit?’  
‘I guess so.’  
‘You threw up in the ornamental fountain, remember?’  
‘Not really.’

As Teresa turned and beckoned to her friends, crowded gazelle-like by the pool under the predatory gaze of Grant and the others, Dick raised a questioning eyebrow at Lew. He winced in reply, rubbing the back of his head.  
‘I stole a bottle of Bollinger. Puked a thousand dollars’ worth of champagne into Mr. Van Der Haas’s Koi Carp collection. I was thirteen.’  
He heard Dick laugh; saw him raise his hand. Lew’s cheek tingled in anticipation of that well-worn gesture of Dick’s affection: the thumb smoothed down his jawbone, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck. But the hand stopped on his shoulder, the warmth in Dick’s eyes tempered with watchfulness. They were not alone anymore. Lew swayed backwards, opening an inconspicuous space between them. The brief pressure of Dick’s hand on his arm was an apology.

‘Lew, you simply _must_ meet my friends!’ Teresa had returned, her entourage in tow. ‘This is Eloise… Valentina… I’m sure you’ve met Alexa Rothschild?’  
‘Not since we were kids, surely,’ Lew shook hands with the tall blonde, flashing her a taut smile.  
‘Nixon, isn’t it?’ she asked, pointedly ignoring Luz, who was staring at her like a kid on Christmas day. ‘I remember. The regatta, years ago. You won a prize.’  
Lew laughed: the loose, genuine laugh of a memory recalled. ‘I must’ve been seven years old!’  
Alexa swayed a little on her Louboutins, looking him up-and-down, her eyes sparkling and drink-drowsy.   
‘How you’ve grown.’

Lew felt panic seize the muscles of his face, the back of his neck suddenly burning. Worse still, he caught in the corner of his eye Dick’s gaze glued to the ground: his barely discernible smirk at Lew’s discomfort. Lew made a mental note to make him pay for it later.  
‘Have, uh, you met my friend George Luz?’ he blurted out, gesturing desperately to his left. Alexa eyed Luz as if he were a stain on her dress. ‘And I don’t believe I’ve ever met _these_ lovely ladies!’  
Side-stepping Alexa and tugging Dick with him by his sleeve, Lew shook hands with the remaining two girls.   
‘Cressida,’ said one.  
‘And Camilla,’ finished the other.   
‘English?’ he observed, startled by their accents. They laughed with one voice.  
‘Bravo! Most people notice the “twins” part first, I must say.’ Cressida tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Camilla’s bracelets jangling as she obliviously mirrored the action. Lew smiled.  
‘Lewis Nixon. This is my friend, Dick.’

‘Leeeeew! Lew, have you seen this waterslide?’  
Teresa’s voice echoed across the lawn. Lew shifted uncomfortably.  
‘Oh, _that_ waterslide?’ he called back. Camilla and Cressida shared an identical smirk.  
‘I’m afraid Teresa’s had rather a lot to drink.’  
‘How do you know her?’ Dick asked, as Smokey volunteered to give Teresa a demonstration of how to use the waterslide. She consented, one eye still firmly anchored on Lew. Camilla shrugged, leaning against her sister.  
‘Our family own her father’s favourite golf resort. Foxleigh Manor.’   
‘Perhaps you know it?’  
Dick shook his head. ‘I’ve never been to England.’  
Cressida frowned. ‘Never? Not even for Royal Ascot? Or the Boat Race?’  
‘You _must_ have been to Raffles, surely?’

Lew took a break from pointedly ignoring Teresa’s increasingly vocal antics on the waterslide to come to Dick’s rescue.  
‘Uh, Dick doesn’t really go in for any of that stuff. What’s the old quote… “I don’t care to belong to any club that would have me as a member”? You know how private clubs are these days.’  
‘Ah, I see,’ Cressida eyed Dick with a new light in her eyes.

‘They think you’re some kind of eccentric billionaire,’ Lew muttered into his drink so only Dick could hear. ‘Y’know, living in one room of your dusty old mansion, burning Rembrandts for firewood. I’d play along if I were you.’ Raising his voice again, he continued. ‘So, golf? Never much cared for it myself.’  
That double laugh again. Camilla set down the near-empty bottle of rosé.  
‘Good show. Ghastly, boring business.’  
‘And so _popular_ nowadays,’ added Cressida. Camilla nodded solemnly. Dick crinkled his brow, unsure as to why exactly this seemed to be such a terrible indictment. He thought it best not to ask.

‘Lew! Come and join us!’ Teresa’s voice suddenly thinned into a shriek as Smokey swept her off her feet and barrelled down the waterslide again.  
‘Remind me to give Smokey a fucking medal when this is all over,’ Lew muttered in Dick’s ear. Dick chuckled under his breath, looking around. Alexa had extricated herself from the clutches of George Luz and was sitting on the porch with Buck, sharing a drink from his hip-flask. Eloise and Valentina were gradually thawing out by the side of the pool, making slightly wary conversation with Grant and Tab. Camilla and Cressida shared a look as the silence drifted into awkwardness.

‘Hey, fellas!’  
Dick started as Malarkey slapped him on the back. Following close behind, Skinny sidled up to Camilla.  
‘May we cut in?’ he asked Lew, gesturing grandly towards the girls. Lew raised his drink.  
‘Be my guest.’  
Turning to Cressida, Malarkey gave a little bow. ‘Would you ladies care to join us for a turn on the waterslide?’  
The girls raised their eyebrows at each other. Cressida smoothed a hand over her dress.  
‘I’d _love_ to, I’m sure, but I’m afraid this is Hermès.’  
‘The water, you see,’ Camilla interjected. ‘Simply ruins silk.’  
Skinny nodded sagely at her. ‘Perhaps you’d like to take a leaf out of your friend’s book?’ he asked, turning their attention back to the waterslide.

On the lawn, evidently just as concerned for her outfit, Teresa had slipped out of her dress and was careening down the waterslide in her underwear. Smokey was stumbling around in the rose bushes, his t-shirt trapped over his head as he drunkenly tried to follow suit.   
‘Goodness,’ Camilla scoffed.  
‘This is all becoming thoroughly debauched,’ agreed Cressida.  
‘How fun!’ They echoed in perfect unison, grabbing hold of Skinny and Malarkey. 

Watching them go, Dick breathed a sigh of relief.   
‘What is “Raffles”?’ he asked tentatively, turning back to Lew. Before he could answer they were joined by Kitty, holding a bottle of Vat 69.   
‘I was just coming to rescue you two, but I see I’ve been beaten to it,’ she joked. Camilla and Skinny’s voices echoed back to them across the garden.  
 _‘You said your name was… Sisk?’  
‘That’s right. Sisk dynasty’s been a leadin’ light in the U.S. construction industry since the eighteen hundreds.’  
‘Oh, really?’_  
Lew snorted. ‘His dad owns a painting and decorating business.’  
‘Well,’ Kitty replied, shaking the bottle at him. ‘If you’re not planning on joining the captains of industry out there on the waterslide, we’ve got a bet to settle, remember?’

***

 

‘Kitty wins!’  
‘This is _outrageous!_ ’  
Lew stood, reeled, then sat back down heavily on the lawn chair.  
‘You didn’t finish the shot, Lew!’ said Harry, holding Kitty’s arm in the air. ‘You owe Kitty ten dollars and a fresh bottle of Vat 69.’  
‘This whole competition _stinks_! The judge is corrupt!’  
Dick sighed wearily. ‘Lew, you just threw it over your shoulder instead of drinking it. Everybody saw.’  
‘Lies…’ Lew muttered, swaying in his seat. ‘I demand a rematch!’

Kitty hiccupped, blinking laboriously.  
‘You wanna rematch, Nixon? C’mon, best of three! I’ll kick your ass…’  
‘Okay, I think you’ve both had enough,’ Dick pried the near-empty bottle gently from Kitty’s grasp.  
‘Wait, wait, wait… Kitty… _Kitty!_ ’ Lew swatted the air, trying to get her attention. With great effort she focused on him, tilting her head. Lew leaned forward. ‘Is _he_ calling us lightweights?’  
‘Lightweights?! Hah!’ Kitty jolted backwards, almost falling off the sun-lounger. ‘Who’s calling us lightweights?’  
‘Mister Winters over there, who can’t drink a… a _wine cooler_ without passing out!’  
Kitty clapped a hand to her chest, looking mortally offended. ‘Dick?!’  
Dick rolled his eyes at Harry, who was giggling into his beer. ‘I never said…’  
‘I’ll have you know,’ interrupted Lew, pulling Kitty to her feet with him, ‘that my _excellent_ friend Kitty and I could drink _any one of you_ under the table!’   
‘Any one of who, Nix?’ Dick asked evenly. 

Rubbing his eyes, Lew looked around the garden. The waterslide sat dry and deserted on the lawn. The girls from next door had all vanished, along with some of the boys. Lights still blazed in their bedroom windows, but each set of curtains was conspicuously drawn. Through the hedge Buck and Alexa were just visible, curled up in an embrace on the porch swing.  
‘Where’s Faye?’ asked Kitty, swaying on her feet.   
Harry stood, drawing her arm around his shoulders. ‘Her and Skip, uh, turned in a while ago.’  
Kitty giggled. ‘Faye says Skip does this thing with his-’  
‘-Aaaand I reckon it’s your bedtime too,’ Harry interrupted swiftly. ‘Come on, before you start spillin’ any more secrets…’

As Harry manoeuvred Kitty into the house, Dick stood, allowing Lew to lean on him.   
‘And you,’ he said, holding a steadying arm around Lew’s waist. ‘Time for bed. Darlin’, come on now.’  
Darlin’, left to her own devices after Web and Lip had taken her brothers inside, pricked up her ears and scampered after Dick’s voice.   
‘Love you, Dick.’ Lew pressed a sloppy kiss against the side of Dick’s neck. He chuckled softly.  
‘I know you do,’ he replied.  
‘Hmm, I don’t think so. I can _show_ you how much I love you…’ Lew lurched against him, trying to pin him against the balustrade. Dick gently pushed Lew towards the front door, guiding him up the porch steps.   
‘You’re not in a fit condition to show me anything, besides how quickly half a bottle of whisky sends a man to sleep.’

Just as they were about to enter the house, there was the sound of someone tripping on the gravel drive. Muffled swearing was followed by the loud creak of the garden gate.   
‘Who is that?’ Dick called into the dark. ‘I’m just about to lock up.’  
‘Wait, dammit…’  
From around the side of the house appeared the dishevelled figure of George Luz.   
Dick sighed. ‘Luz? What were you doing, stumbling around out there in the dark?’  
Luz rubbed his left cheek, which even in the gloom appeared to bear the angry red imprint of a hand.  
‘I, uh, thought I’d try my luck one last time. Turns out nobody wanted to share.’  
Lew groaned. ‘Luz, you are disgusting.’  
‘Hey, he who dares, right?’  
‘I don’t think that proverb ends in “gets added to the sex offenders register”.’  
‘Right.’  
Dick propped Lew against one of the sofas before ushering Luz inside. ‘Go to bed, Luz.’  
The door clicked shut behind them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew go for a morning swim. A disastrous attempt is made at cooking pancakes.

_He was alone on the beach, wading ankle-deep in the surf: knowing rather than feeling the coldness of the water, as dreamers often do. Light fell brilliant on the horizon but did not blind him, his skin senseless to the gusts that licked up fronds of eddying waves. A fleet of paper boats quivered over the waters._

_Suddenly, seamlessly, he was sitting on the curb at Conservatory Water, his legs too short to ripple the still, dark surface with his toes, and he knew he was a child again. The paper boats were now a flotilla of white-sailed toy yachts, listing dizzily, their paths desultory and aimless. Fronds of oak leaves rustled in the branches above his head. He imagined their ancient green and rain-damp smell._

_The rustling built and echoed all around him, a deafening heave and sigh, and the sails on the water became wings as a flurry of a thousand white doves threshed their way into the sky._

Light streamed through the curtains, azure-stained as it fell across peaks and troughs of rumpled bedcovers. A breeze from the open window sucked at the drapes then sent them billowing, allowing a flash of sunlight to lance straight into Lew’s eye. He groaned, smoothing his hand across the anchor-patterned sheets. The mattress dipped and was empty under his touch. Dragging himself up against the headboard, he rubbed his eyes and squinted in the blue-lit gloom. 

Model airplanes dangled limply from the ceiling, Mustangs and Warhawks, snarling teeth and painted pin-up girls adorning their flanks. A model yacht sat still and perfect in its glass case. Endless bookshelves, stuffed as liberally with tattered comics and packs of playing-cards as they were with books. Mark Twain; Robert Louis Stevenson; Daniel Defoe. First editions all: one of the perks of belonging to a family who believed a book could most certainly be judged by its cover. A beautiful leather-panelled antique writing desk, optimistically bought and subsequently neglected. It stuck out almost as sorely as Lew did, shirtless and stinking of whisky in a child’s single bed. 

As the curtains rustled once more against the window frame, Lew heard from outside the distinctive slosh and slap of water. No voices or creaks of floorboards sounded from the other rooms. He wondered how early it was. Rolling forward onto his knees, he reached up and drew the curtains back.  
‘Ugh…’ Pain flashed bright behind his eyes as the sunlight hit him. Throwing a hand across his brow, he peered out over the swimming pool and laughed.

‘Hey, Dick!’  
A russet-plastered head turned upwards to face him. Dick slowed and began to tread water, slicking a wet frond of hair from his eyes.   
‘Lew! Wanna join me?’  
Lew scoffed. ‘And what time do you call this?’  
‘Morning. You probably haven’t heard of it.’  
‘You should do stand-up, y’know.’

The garden was strewn with empty cans, paper plates and scattered stubs of cigarettes. The debris cast cool licks of shadow across the grass: patches of night fleeing from the climbing sun. Although the breeze still held a little of night’s chill, Lew’s sleep-warm skin began to prickle uncomfortably as the light fell on him in burning bands. Below him, Dick palmed at the water, keeping himself afloat. Water sluiced over his pale shoulders.

‘Hang on…’  
Lew grabbed the window frame and pulled himself forward, slinging one leg over until he was straddling the sill.   
‘Lew, what are you doing?’  
The pool’s edge was only a metre or so out from the side of the house. He’d done it so many times as a boy: Blanche’s whispered squeaks of encouragement as she kept watch in the garden below.   
‘Relax, I’ll be right down.’  
‘You better not be doing what I think you’re- Lew, don’t!’

The mad, gleeful push. The next splinter of a moment, suspended like an endless blue sky, then the delicious shock of water against his skin. Falling, blind, until the tiles at the bottom of the pool scratched with a dull pain against his elbow. Breath forced from his lungs in a sparkling rush. Fighting the airless tug in his chest, Lew pushed upwards, breaking through the surface. He gasped, laughing, rubbing the sting of water and sunlight from his eyes. 

‘Good morning.’  
‘Lew, you utter- what were you _thinking?!’_  
Dick sliced his arm through the water, sending a wave that slapped across Lew’s face. Lew shook a shower from his hair, dog-like.  
‘What was that for?’ he laughed. ‘Me and Blanche did it a bunch of times as kids.’  
‘Lewis, you may still have the mental capacity of a thirteen-year-old boy, but you have the body of an adult man. You could’ve hurt yourself.’ 

The warm, tingling pain as Dick’s hand smoothed the scraped skin of his elbow made Lew shiver. He looped an arm around Dick’s waist, kicking at the nothing beneath their feet. Rocked by the waves of Lew’s jump, they broke apart and came together again: a flurry of countless soft touches.   
‘C’mon,’ he closed his fingers around Dick’s wrist, pulling him to the shallows.   
There, with his feet anchored, he pressed their bodies close, Dick’s back resting against the side of the pool. His mouth tasted of mint and chlorine, clean and cool and soft, like drifting into sleep on fresh, crisp sheets. 

Lew had asked Dick once if it bothered him: his taste when they kissed. Stale cigarettes and the bitter after-tang of booze, like paint fumes or diesel oil. Alcohol stripped of the scents and flavours that usually masked its poison kick. Lew often supposed that his kisses must be like taking a shot of gut-rotting corner store vodka. Dick had simply shook his head and smiled. _It tastes like you._

Lew palmed the lean, solid lines of Dick’s ribcage, his waist, his thigh. Quiet splashes of stirring water covered the soft sounds he felt in his throat. Their bodies rocked in the water, weightless. Turning his head as Dick pressed his mouth to the curve of his shoulder, Lew’s eyes lighted on something at the side of the pool.  
‘Dick…’  
‘Hmm,’ Dick kissed the base of his throat.  
‘What have you done with Roger?’

Dick looked up, his lips flushed. For a moment he followed Lew’s gaze sightlessly, dazed and impatient.  
‘What… oh. Yeah.’ He laughed sheepishly. Lew wished he could kiss that sound. ‘I was afraid he might get blown into next door’s garden.’  
‘Might have been worth taking the risk. It looks like we’re preparing to hang, draw and quarter him on the rose trellis.’

To prevent Roger from being blown away in the morning breeze, Dick had propped him against the trellis that clung to the garage wall, conscientiously securing him by slotting a certain inflatable appendage through one of its wooden slats.  
‘Well, I didn’t want your parents finding out,’ Dick retorted, his cheeks glowing. Lew laughed, kissing him.  
‘To be honest, I’d rather my parents thought we were sex maniacs over murderers.’  
‘Lew, your mother probably thinks you’re both already.’  
Lew’s face split in a wicked grin, his kiss sharp with the edge of bared teeth. He dug his thumb into the ridge of Dick’s hip bone, feeling Dick’s mouth open against his.   
‘Well, let’s give her buddies at the tennis club something to talk about…’

‘Hey, you two!’  
They jolted apart, Dick hurriedly rearranging the waistband of his swim shorts.   
‘You know the rules: no running on the poolside, no dive-bombing and _no heavy petting!’_  
Skinny, Smokey and Malarkey were trailing across the grass, looking thoroughly dishevelled. Skinny could barely walk, clinging to the collar of Smokey’s shirt, which was stained with wine and unbuttoned to the waist. Malarkey’s hair stuck up in an auburn shock on one side.   
‘Back from behind enemy lines, I see,’ called Lew. ‘Recover any valuable intel?’  
‘Yeah,’ Skinny slurred, laboriously raising his head. ‘English gals love a good-’

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Dick interrupted him by emerging from the pool with a heave and splash of water. Malarkey snorted with laughter.  
‘Dick, spare us the holier-than-thou act…’ he leaned forward, winking. ‘Y’know, from the second floor over there you can see _everything_ that goes on in this pool.’  
Dick hid his reddening face by running a towel through his hair. Smokey wheezed, gesturing towards the trellis.  
‘Also, what the fuck did you do to poor Roger?’  
‘Nothing!’ Dick wrapped the towel defensively around himself.  
‘You’re sick, man, doing that to a poor, innocent blow-up doll…’

‘What’s goin’ on out here?’   
Lieb had appeared at the front door in just boxers and a t-shirt, Web trailing behind him. They blinked owlishly in the sunlight, rubbing their eyes. Malarkey grinned.  
‘Dick was just spending some quality time with Roger.’  
‘Oh, hush,’ Dick threw the towel to Lew as he clambered up onto the poolside. ‘I’m going to get changed.’  
‘He’ll be _deflated_ to hear that,’ Smokey called after him, receiving no response as Dick went into the house. 

‘Hey, we got any food left?’ asked Lieb. ‘Princess here is gettin’ cranky.’  
‘Lieb, you _know_ I have a very fast metabolism!’ Web replied, throwing himself onto a lawn chair. ‘I’m getting hypoglycemic, I can feel it…’  
Lew wrapped the towel around his waist. ‘Well, I reckon we probably have some bacon left from yesterday… Let me see what’s in the kitchen.’ 

They followed him inside, avoiding the trail of damp footprints he left on the tiled floor. Opening the fridge, Lew pulled out two packets of bacon and threw them down on the counter-top.   
‘There! Now, let’s see…’ he began rifling through the cupboards, mostly filled with unused fine china and crystal wine glasses.  
‘Aha!’ he brandished a plastic bottle at them. “Shake-to-Make-Pancakes: add water or milk to fill level, shake and pour into a pre-heated pan for delicious, fluffy pancakes just like grandma used to make”.  
‘Let me see that…’ Malarkey grabbed the bottle, inspecting the peeling label. ‘Lew, the use-by date is two years ago.’  
‘I think I’m going to pass out,’ Web groaned, bending over the sofa.   
‘Ah, they’ll be fine,’ Lew grabbed a pan and began fiddling with dials on the oven. ‘Web, lie back and stick your feet in the air, you’ll be okay.’

‘Boys, some of us are tryin’ to sleep over here…’ Joe emerged from a tangle of blankets on the sofa-bed. ‘Hey, we havin’ pancakes?’  
Lew was crashing around in the cutlery drawer. ‘Coming right, up, Joe. Bacon, too.’  
‘We got any coffee?’  
‘Uh…’ Lieb grabbed a ceramic jar marked COFFEE from the sideboard and opened it.   
‘Jesus Christ!’ Reeling back, he slammed the lid back on. ‘This coffee has mould in it. Actual mould.’  
‘Let me see, it can’t be that bad-’ Malarkey took a peek inside and began to cough, eyes watering. ‘Holy… is that thing _alive?’_  
Lieb shook his head. ‘Right, that’s it. Lew, is there a store around here?’  
‘There’s a little mom-and-pop place on Poplar Avenue: you would’ve passed it on the way here.’

‘What’s all this noise?’ Luz stuck his head around the bookcase door. Perconte appeared behind him, yawning.  
‘Yeah, some of us had George Luz yammerin’ in our ears all night. What gives?’  
‘Goin’ to get breakfast,’ Lieb replied. ‘Anyone who wants to come with, you got two minutes. I gotta get dressed.’  
‘Shotgun!’ Luz yelled.  
‘Lieb!’ Web’s hand shot out over the back of the couch and grabbed his arm. ‘Lieb, get me something with sugar in it… I’m dying…’  
Lieb leaned down and kissed the bridge of his nose. ‘You’ll be fine, darlin’. I’ll get you somethin’ nice.’  
Luz stumbled into the living room, pulling his jeans on. ‘Hey, can we stop for ice-cream?’   
_‘No!’_

***

 

‘Hey, Lew, flip me another one, will ya?’  
‘I’ll flip you this, Babe, how about that, huh?’ Lew gave him the finger, not looking up from the pancake he was frying. ‘Wait your fuckin’ turn, you just had one.’  
‘I shoulda shot you yesterday when I had the chance,’ Babe grumbled.  
‘Hey, speakin’ of,’ Perconte pointed at Faye and Kitty as they all sat crowded around the breakfast bar. ‘ _You two_ shot me in the ass!’   
‘Us?!’ the girls stared at him as if butter wouldn’t melt.  
Skip rolled his eyes. ‘Frank, everyone got shot in the ass. It’s a funny place to shoot someone.’

Malarkey help up a greasy chunk of pancake on the tip of his fork, regarding it suspiciously. ‘These pancakes smell like my armpit…’  
‘At least your armpit’s warm,’ replied Skip, stealing half of what remained on Malarkey’s plate and passing it to Faye.   
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Lew grumbled past his cigarette. He was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, his favourite pair of aviators and still-damp boxer shorts from that morning’s swim. ‘Shut up, alright, the bacon’s almost ready.’   
A cheer went round the table.   
‘Finally!’ whooped Penkala. Lew rolled his eyes, offering him a plate.  
‘Here, pass this one to Web. How’s he doing, Doc?’  
Eugene looked up from his seat on the sofa beside Web. ‘He’ll be okay, I reckon. If these pancakes don’t kill him.’

‘If anything’s killin’ that boy, it’s gonna be me.’  
Lieb appeared at the front door with Smokey, the two of them weighed down with shopping bags. Luz followed behind, carrying an enormous tub of ice-cream. The dogs skittered around their ankles, whining, before loping off into the garden to play.  
‘What’d you get?’ asked Lew.  
‘First things first…’ Lieb took out a jar and slammed it down on the counter. ‘Coffee.’ Turning to the sofa, he dropped the shopping bags and leaned over Web, who was picking with great difficulty at his plate. ‘How’s my baby doin’?’  
‘ _Please_ tell me you brought me an alternative to _this_ ,’ he groaned, stabbing at the half-cooked blob of batter with his fork.   
‘Can we get the boy some bacon over here? Jesus Christ…’ Lieb began searching through the shopping bags. ‘Aaaand… I got you… these!’

The bag rustled and fell over, spilling bottles of soda and cigarette-packets onto the floor as Lieb held up a packet of Hershey’s Kisses. Web’s face lit up.  
‘You got me Hershey’s Kisses? I _love_ Hershey’s Kisses!’  
Lieb gave a soft huff of laughter, smiling down at him.   
‘I know.’  
‘Who said somethin’ about Hershey’s Kisses?!’ Perconte asked through a mouthful of bacon. Lieb rounded on him.  
‘Ain’t a single one of ‘em for you, Frank, so just keep your hands to yourself, alright? You want your own, you can go down to the store yourself and buy ‘em.’  
‘Aw, c’mon, just one! Web? _C’mon_ , I got a wounded ass over here!’

Luz looked up from where he was shovelling ice cream straight from the carton into his mouth. ‘I can have one, right Web, old buddy?’  
Web sat up shakily, eyeing him from over the back of the couch. ‘You gonna share that ice-cream, Luz?’  
‘Fuck off!’  
Web shrugged, grinning. ‘There’s your answer.’ He popped a Kiss into his mouth, throwing the balled-up silver wrapper in Luz’s direction. Luz huffed, returning to his ice-cream.  
‘Ah, I don’t like the plain ones anyway. Didn’t even fork out for Cookies ‘n’ Crème for your _baby_ , Lieb?’  
‘They didn’t have ‘em. And shut up.’

Freshly showered and changed, Dick appeared at the foot of the stairs.   
‘Ron and Lip say they’ll be right down: is there enough bacon left?’  
‘Just about,’ replied Lew, flipping another pancake.  
‘There’s more in one of the bags,’ Smokey called out as he poured himself some coffee. 

Dick picked up one of the discarded bags and began loading some of it into the fridge.  
‘There’s some… odd stuff in here,’ he observed, scrutinizing a plastic packet. ‘Marshmallows?’  
‘Lew said somethin’ about a bonfire on the beach tonight,’ replied Lieb. ‘I thought we could make s’mores.’  
Lew nodded. ‘Yeah, I reckoned we could set the fireworks off down there. We’ve got our own private stretch of sand just below the garden.’  
‘We’ll have to shut the dogs in the house,’ Dick said as he pulled out a carton of milk. ‘Hoobler too, maybe.’  
Hoob rolled his eyes. ‘Ha-ha.’

‘You leave those fireworks to me, Hoob.’  
Popeye laughed as Lip and Ron made their way into the kitchen. ‘You two lovebirds finally decided to get outta bed, huh?’  
Ron couldn’t quite manage his usual stony expression in reply. A suspicious-looking bruise peeked out from beneath the neck of his t-shirt.   
‘I see you boys are back,’ Lip nodded towards Skinny, Smokey and Malarkey as Ron went to pour them some coffee. ‘Where are the others?’  
‘Tab and Grant were asleep when we left,’ replied Skinny, cradling his head in his hands. His face was an unsettling shade of green.  
‘Buck and the lovely Alexa were leaving just as we got up,’ Malarkey added. ‘Apparently he wanted to take her to this brilliant little breakfast place he knows. In New York.’  
Johnny spluttered into his coffee. ‘But he drove us here! How are we gonna get back?!’  
Malarkey shrugged. ‘He said he’d be back by tomorrow morning. You know how Buck is when it comes to broads.’

‘Lieb…’ Dick held up another, rather heavier, packet. ‘What exactly made you think we’d need a sack of potatoes for our trip to the beach?’  
Lieb stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘You kiddin’? Wrap ‘em up in baking foil, toss ‘em in the fire! That shit is delicious… I thought you grew up in Nowhereville Pennsylvania, Dick, you never went camping as a kid?’  
‘Well, sure, but we took a Dutch oven with us: made chili, chicken casserole… my mom makes a great campfire caramel apple pie.’ He looked up at Lieb, a smile catching briefly at the corner of his mouth. ‘What, you go camping and live off nothing but baked potatoes for a week?!’  
‘Jesus, no wonder you’re so skinny, Lieb. He’s malnourished!’ crowed Penkala. 

‘Alright,’ Lip interrupted before Lieb could get himself started on another tirade. ‘Everyone who’s eaten already, why don’t you start packing up what we need for the beach?’  
Shifty nodded. ‘I reckon Skinny could do with some fresh air.’   
Skinny groaned in reply, clinging white-knuckled to the breakfast bar as he swayed gently in his seat. ‘I don’t think them pancakes helped none, Lew…’  
Lew stubbed out his cigarette in the frying pan. ‘Right, no more pancakes. Who still hasn’t had anything? Lip, Ron, Dick, Lieb… Hey Joe, is Bill alive in there?’

Joe leaned over the cocoon of bed clothes from which one of Bill’s feet just poked out.   
‘Bill, you want some breakfast? There’s coffee…’  
The blankets stirred a little. ‘Will everybody quit yellin’ so loud…’  
‘You want bacon, Bill?’  
‘Uuuuurgh…’  
Joe turned back to Lew and the others. ‘That’s a no. I’ll take his share, though.’  
‘If you cook it Joe, you can have all the bacon you want.’

Dick looked up from where he was washing plates in the sink. ‘We should go next door on the way, check Tab and Grant are okay.’  
Lew scoffed. ‘That girl Valentina was an underwear model. I reckon they’re both fine.’   
As he spoke, the front door creaked open.  
‘Ah! Speak of the devil!’ Lip slid two fresh mugs of coffee along the table as Tab and Grant sat themselves down, looking in a similar state to Skinny.  
‘You boys have fun?’ Lew grinned salaciously at them.  
‘A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,’ replied Grant.  
‘Good thing you two ain’t gentlemen, then. Bacon?’  
Tab shook his head, leaning over the counter-top. ‘Oh my god, no. I’m never drinking again.’

‘Hey, Lew, I think we should take Roger with us for this little beach party- oh, hi fellas.’ Luz leaned round the cinema doorway. ‘Good night?’  
Grant turned towards him. ‘Yeah, no thanks to you. What were you playing at?!’  
Luz shrugged. ‘Can’t blame a guy for tryin’, right? So, Lew…’  
‘Absolutely not,’ Lew interjected. ‘Take the beach ball though, and there’s a volleyball net in the garage, you can go find that. Should keep you out of trouble for, I dunno, five minutes.’  
Luz headed outside, grumbling to himself. 

***

 

It wasn’t until some time later that Luz finally emerged from the garage, covered in dust and spider webs, one slightly tattered volleyball net in hand.   
‘C’mon Luz, you slowpoke,’ Bull called from where he was lazing on the grass.  
‘Yeah, we’re all waitin’ on you!’ added Spina, to a chorus of giggles. Luz gave them a look that could sour milk.   
‘The things I do for you boys…’ he muttered, brushing a spider from the leg of his jeans.   
Babe slung an arm around his shoulders, grinning. ‘Aw, cheer up, sunshine!’  
Luz rolled his eyes, dumping the net in Babe’s arms. ‘Let’s go to the fuckin’ beach.’


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun and games ensue during a day at the beach. Lip discovers a secret from Ron's past that may threaten their future.

‘Gene, for the love of Christ, will you get off me?!’  
‘Alright, alright, just lemme just get this one spot here-’  
Babe batted Eugene away. ‘Seriously, you’ve iced me up like that fuckin’ birthday cake!’  
Eugene huffed, snapping the cap closed on a bottle of sun block. ‘Well, don’t come cryin’ to me later when your nose is glowin’ like Rudolph on Christmas day…’  
Babe laughed. ‘Yeah, like you can talk, sittin’ over there as pale as Frosty the fuckin’ Snowman. Here, gimme the bottle, I’m gonna give you a taste of your own medicine!’

‘Will you two quit hogging the Factor fifty? There’s more than one redhead on this beach!’  
Malarkey tossed a shell at the bickering pair from where he and Dick had taken shelter under a large yellow beach umbrella. Lip and Johnny were busy spreading blankets over the sand whilst Lew supervised Shifty and Popeye’s efforts at hoisting the volleyball net.  
‘Hell, Shifty, lift your end higher!’  
‘Naw, it ain’t straight, Pop! Mind that rock there…’  
‘From where I’m standing it looks straight,’ said Lew, shading his eyes.  
Popeye shoved his post into the sand. ‘Well damn, Nix, past noon you can’t even walk in a straight line…’  
Lew looked scandalised. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve had nothing to drink all day but coffee!’  
‘Yeah, Irish coffee don’t count,’ muttered Shifty.

‘Boys, the beach is on a slope,’ Spina called over. ‘Why don’t we just put all the tall people on one side? That oughta even it out.’  
‘Someone get that man a cigar!’ whooped Lew. ‘Frank, Johnny, you boys are playing uphill!’  
‘I’ll kick you all the way down that hill in a minute,’ Johnny replied evenly. If Lew heard him, he didn’t let on.  
‘Bull, Tab, you guys go downhill… who else is a short-stack? Skinny, you wanna play?’  
Skinny replied by falling face-first onto the nearest picnic blanket and proceeding to snore loudly. 

Bull picked up the beach ball and turned to Faye and Kitty, who were lounging in the sun.  
‘How ‘bout it, gals? You’re tiny… reckon you can smoke us on the court as well as shootin’ us in the ass?’  
‘Yeah!’ called Frank from the other side of the net. ‘It’s payback time!’  
Faye turned to Kitty. ‘What d’you think?’  
‘Hmm, I don’t know…’  
Frank scoffed at them. ‘What, you can shoot us from behind but you won’t take us face-to-face?!’  
Faye sighed, stretching languorously. ‘We just wanted to save you the humiliation of getting your ass handed to you _twice.’_  
‘That’s fightin’ talk,’ Bull chuckled. ‘Y’all get on up here!’  
‘We’ll show you bean-poles how it’s done,’ replied Kitty, pulling Faye to her feet.

‘Web, you fuckin’ maniac, watch it!’  
Down by the shoreline Lieb was standing knee-deep in the rolling tide, raising a hand to shield himself as Web splashed headlong into the waves.  
‘Not gonna join me at the deep end?’ Web asked as he surfaced, shaking the water from his hair.  
‘You kiddin’?’ Lieb stumbled in the surf, rolling his jeans up a little further. His t-shirt lay discarded on the sand. ‘This water’s damn near freezing, I ain’t throwin’ myself in there.’  
Web bobbed along on his back like an otter, watching the cloudless sky. ‘There’s nothing like swimming in the sea. It’s good for the soul.’  
Lieb scoffed. ‘Good for the soul? Freezing your balls off, gettin’ eaten by a shark?’  
“In order to write about life you must first live it.”  
‘Who said that? Dr. Phil?’  
‘Hemingway.’  
‘Whatever.’

‘Hey, you two!’ Penkala yelled from the makeshift volleyball court. ‘You playin’? We need two more-’ suddenly he was interrupted by the beach ball smacking off the back of his head. ‘What the fuck, Pop?!’  
Popeye flashed him an unapologetic grin. ‘What you doin’? If you gonna be on this team, then get on it!’  
Penk rubbed his head irritably. ‘Will you relax? I was trying to recruit Captain Ahab over there!’  
‘Captain Ahab?’ Lew glanced up from where he was hammering a net-post deeper into the sand. ‘What does that make Lieb: the White Whale?’  
‘Ah, my fuckin’ sides,’ Lieb wrapped his arms around his pale chest, scowling. 

‘You play if you like, Lieb,’ Web said. ‘I reckon I might swim out to that buoy over there.’  
Lieb shaded his eyes, looking out towards the little bobbing orange float in the distance.  
‘Alright, but will you be careful? Please? If I have to swim out there and save your stranded ass…’  
Web laughed. ‘Save _my_ ass?! You can barely doggie-paddle!’

‘Hey, Lieb! You comin’ or not?!’ Penkala called again.  
‘Alright, alright!’ Lieb shivered from the water’s chill. ‘Just be careful. You see a shark, punch it on the nose or some shit.’  
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Web yelled back before plunging under the waves once more.

***

 

‘Get behind the fuckin’ attack line, you cheat!’  
‘Foul!’  
‘That’s _our_ point!’  
‘Nah, nah, Frank was over the attack line!’  
‘It’s a line drawn in the fuckin’ sand, Penk, you can’t even see it anymore!’

Perconte turned wordlessly towards Lip, who was lying back on one of the picnic rugs, using Ron’s chest as a pillow. Lip raised his sunglasses, squinting over at them.  
‘I don’t know what you’re looking at me for, Perco. The attack line’s back there.’  
‘Told you!’ crowed Penkala. ‘Our point!’  
Perconte sighed. ‘Ah, we’d be winning if Floyd wasn’t still drunk…’  
‘Huh?’ Tab wheeled around aimlessly, wobbling a little on his feet.  
‘Okay, next point wins!’ Lew tossed the ball from hand to hand. ‘C’mon girls, we can do this!’

‘You okay?’ Lip tipped his head back, glancing up at Ron. He received a sleepy grunt in reply.  
‘Hmm. Getting hungry.’  
Lip chuckled, sitting up. ‘Come on then, we can start collecting firewood.’  
Ron made another non-committal noise, swatting lazily at Lip as he received an elbow in the ribs.  
‘Come on. You’ll fall asleep otherwise.’  
‘Fine by me.’  
Ron managed to snake an arm around Lip’s waist, pulling him back down.  
‘Ron…’ Lip protested half-heartedly as Ron wrapped both arms around his waist, pinning him to the picnic rug. Huffing a sigh, he gave up struggling and instead ran a hand through Ron’s hair.

‘Aw, look at those two!’  
Lip’s fingers paused abruptly in their swirling course. He could feel the lines of Ron’s body stiffen.  
‘Such a cute couple!’ Luz continued, more loudly this time. Lip looked down to find Ron already staring up at him.  
‘Firewood?’ he suggested.  
‘Brilliant idea.’  
‘Ah c’mon, guys! There’s no need to be embarrassed!’ Luz called after them as they pulled each other to their feet. 

They meandered for a mile or so down the beach in companionable silence, broken only by the hushing crunch of sand beneath their feet. Far out to sea, the sky met the water in a blinding silver haze. The wind was sharp and salt-scented, grazing their cheeks.  
‘Web’s still out there,’ Lip said as he picked up a gnarled piece of driftwood. A fine white dusting of sand coated his palms, grating against his skin. Ron shaded his eyes with one hand, looking back across the shore.  
‘Liebgott’s still watching him.’

Lip glanced back and chuckled at the sight of Lieb dawdling awkwardly at the edge of the makeshift volleyball court, glancing every few seconds at the mop of dark hair bobbing out in the deep waves.  
‘They bicker like an old married couple,’ he said.  
Ron bent to retrieve part of a shattered tree-branch.  
‘I’m sure one day they’ll be one.’  
Lip watched him in surprise. ‘You think?’  
A shrug. ‘Maybe not married. Not them.’ Ron stooped to pick up another piece of flotsam from the sand. ‘But… they’re good for each other. They balance each other out.’

Lip let out a huff of laughter, nodding. A wordless moment stretched between them, marked by the soft lapping of waves.  
‘It seems strange,’ Lip began, then faltered, uncertain. He sometimes felt Ron’s presence in his life like a phantom limb, or the last stair that falls away under one’s foot in the dark: caught halfway between presence and absence. It scared him a little, how deeply he felt for this man, and how little he really knew him. ‘It seems strange to not do it, now that we can. Marriage, I mean.’  
Ron said nothing.  
‘I mean, not “we” as in you and I,’ Lip continued, panicking. ‘Just… in general. You know.’

_It’s not important to me_. The words that had so angered, so frightened him. Ron’s voice, which had so confidently presumed a future that was theirs, spelling its potential doom. Lip forced himself to continue.  
‘It’s important to me. A family of my own. One day.’  
Ron turned his head minutely, still staring out to sea. ‘People don’t need to be married to have a family.’  
‘People like us do.’  
‘That’s not true.’  
Lip just looked at him. Ron looked away, out into the sighing sea. 

He could let it go so easily: savour the last golden moments of this day. Spend another night, and another, breathing Ron’s scent and sharing his smile. They didn’t have to have this conversation. Not yet. And with every day it would get harder: ambitions pushed back until they faded into dreams, into memories of a life that could have been but never was. 

‘I want a family, Ron. I want a husband.’ Lip’s hands were shaking. He watched the waves lap against the sand. ‘I want PTA meetings and soccer practice and hand-painted cards on Father’s Day. I want a house full of grandkids at Christmas when I’m old and grey. And I want someone to share that with. Someone to love it with. We have to love our life together, not just each other.’ The crashing surf rushed like a pulse in his ears. ‘And I know we haven’t been together long, but this isn’t like having different tastes in music, or both of us wanting to sleep on the same side of the bed: this is…’ A stumble; a sigh. ‘I understand if…’  
He couldn’t say more. It was a lie, to say he would understand. 

Ron looked at him then. Lip felt rather than saw the turning of his head, his own eyes fixed on the pile of driftwood in his arms.  
‘I was married once.’  
Lip blinked once, twice in silence. He had heard Ron as one overhears a stranger’s conversation on the train: a fleeting slip into a reality which does not belong to you, in which you are nothing but a passing face. Looking into Ron’s eyes, Lip felt himself rock back on his heels, his heart clenched tight and frantic against his ribs.  
‘You’re serious.’  
It wasn’t a question. Lip could read truth in the utter stillness of Ron’s body, held straight and tense, jarring like a splinter against the wind-tossed noises and the endless tide.

‘I was nineteen. It lasted just over a year.’  
Lip’s chest felt empty, scooped out, dizzyingly light. His throat tightened painfully as he swallowed.  
‘A girl?’ he asked, wincing at the thin waver of his voice. Of course it was a girl. It had to be, all those years ago. He clung to the knowledge and forced himself to believe it made a difference.  
Ron was still looking at him. Lip watched a seagull coasting lazily on a high breeze: a dark flash in the blinding sky.  
‘Her father was a friend of my father’s. We made an attractive couple.’  
The bird folded its wings and plummeted, spearing into the sunlit water.  
‘I did what was expected of me.’

Lip felt as if he were trying to move underwater: every thought lagging and disjointed, every breath thick in his chest. The words burned in his throat for several minutes before he spoke.  
‘Did you love her?’  
Ron sighed; shifted slightly into Lip’s space. Lip swayed backwards.  
‘I cared for her. I… was attracted to her. She was in love with me.’ A dark, unfamiliar twist in Lip’s stomach. ‘But being in love is not the same as loving.’  
One wave, then a second, then a third. Lip lost count over and over. Ron’s voice like the low scrape of sand. 

‘I thought that was just how it was, between a man and a woman. I thought we were lucky to even _like_ one another. My parents…’ another sigh. ‘You don’t know what that world is like, Carwood. It was an alliance. We were assets of great value.’  
‘What happened?’ Lip heard himself ask. The blind leap of pleasure at Ron’s use of his name abruptly plunged back into misery.  
‘What was bound to happen.’ Ron looked down, away. ‘If it had been with a woman I think she could have borne it. But with a man…’ Lip turned sharply now to face him, watching the still lines of his face. ‘It was a relief, in the end. For both of us.’

Lip could hear shouts and laughter from further down the beach. They had walked far: the others were now little more than a blur of colour on the horizon, the sounds of their game echoing across the open sands. That lazy, sun-contented morning was like a voice on the breeze, slipping away from him. He felt Ron’s hand on his arm and thought about pulling away. He didn’t.  
‘I never should have told you.’  
‘No. You should have kept lying to me. What will it matter in five years’ time, when you’re having this conversation with someone else.’

Lip flinched even as he spoke. He knew that wasn’t what Ron had meant. The desire slipped from him as quickly as it had come: to repay hurt with hurt.  
‘I didn’t want to cause you pain,’ Ron said patiently.  
The skin of Lip’s face felt hot and tight. He took a deep breath, easing a little at the knot of tensed muscles in his chest.  
‘But you don’t want to get married. Not again.’ He studied Ron’s face with the sense of something falling out from beneath him, feeling as one does after using a word so often that it begins to lose its meaning. ‘You don’t want a family?’

Ron’s jaw was clenched.  
‘I… hadn’t thought so. But then, I hadn’t…’ he ran his thumb over the thin red scar that still sickled its way across Lip’s cheek. Lip dropped the armful of driftwood held between them like a shield, his vision suddenly hazed with the beginning of tears. ‘Carwood, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I thought… I thought perhaps I couldn’t.’

_Love._ They had never spoken of it before. Lip would not speak of it now. As much as he wished it were not so, Lip recognised that for him- as for most lovers- those words were not a statement but an ultimatum. A desperate question in the lonely dark. _Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me back?_

Ron had told him because he understood that Lip needed it. In turn, Lip understood that Ron did not. He had told Ron he loved him every day from the moment they met: when Ron caught him struggling through an ancient library copy of Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_ , or when Lip “accidentally” forgot his umbrella at _Brécourt_ on days when it was due to rain. Or by the change in his voice, the tilt of his smile that was somehow subtly different from when he looked at anyone else. He would not question Ron’s love under the disguise of his own. 

‘I meant what I said, about wanting a family. Not soon, but someday.’ Lip turned his face away, but he moved forward into Ron’s touch on his arm, letting his own hand brush against Ron’s hip. ‘I need to know if there’s at least a _chance_ that someday you might want it too. Otherwise…’  
The words caught in his throat. Silence spoke for him. He could feel Ron’s sigh against his neck.  
‘I want you to be happy. I want to be the one who makes you happy. I want you.’ Waves inched closer, the tide pulling in around their feet. ‘Right now, that’s what I want. Give me some time, Carwood. I want to give you what you’re looking for. Just… give it time.’

Behind them, a chorus of raucous cheers signalled the end of the game. Someone called their names: a blur in the heat haze, waving at them from afar.  
‘We should go back,’ Lip said. A sudden reckless tug in his chest pulled him round to face Ron again, looking up into his eyes. ‘Let’s just go back- can we? Back to this morning, before we had this whole… stupid conversation. Can we just do that?’  
Ron kissed him, soft and light, just above his eyebrow. ‘Give it time, Carwood.’  
He bent and picked up the scatter of flotsam they’d dropped on the sand, cradling it in a bundle under one arm. The other he draped over Lip’s shoulders, holding him close as they walked back along the shoreline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update for anyone who's been reading along: I'm currently in the final stages of writing the epilogue for this work, which will be 22 chapters long once completed, so there are a couple more to follow! If you've been enjoying it this far, I hope you'll stick with me to the end.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fireworks on the beach. Dick's suspicions are proved right. Luz ruins a movie.

‘You are so full of shit.’  
‘What’s going on?’ Dick asked as he strolled back onto the beach, returning from having shut three very sleepy puppies inside the house. Eugene leaned back on his elbows and caught his eye with a wry expression.  
‘Babe thinks one of the baristas in the Starbucks on Hope Street has a crush on him.’  
‘Heffron, you slut!’ Bill yelled through a mouthful of S’more. Babe huffed, flapping his arms helplessly.  
‘Jesus, I never said I offered to suck his dick for a cup of Colombian blend, I’m just _sayin’_ , he _always_ remembers my order-’  
Spina chuckled. ‘Because that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you drink, like, nineteen cups of coffee a day…’  
‘- _And_ he gives me extra caramel sauce! Every time!’

‘Alright, boys…’  
Babe continued muttering to himself as Lip emerged from the gathering dusk, having brought a box of fireworks down from the house and stowed them a safe distance away from the bonfire that now spat and flickered on the sand.   
‘Lip! Need any help?’ Hoobler called over.  
‘From Smokey maybe, not from you.’  
‘Jesus…’ Hoob shook his head. ‘You fuck up _one time_ … y’know Walt’s had me manning the fuckin’ cash register for the last six months? There was barely even a scar after they cut my jeans off me!’  
‘Hey,’ Lip looked up at him. ‘I’m not above getting Dick to shut you in the house too, just enjoy your S’mores.’

Dick took a seat on one of the picnic rugs next to Lew.  
‘Darlin’ okay?’ Lew asked absently, leaning against his shoulder. Dick smiled, pressing his cheek briefly against the crown of Lew’s head.  
‘All tuckered out. Had to carry her part of the way.’  
Lew chuckled. His skin was warm from the snapping fire as he tangled his legs with Dick’s. Stretching out over dark waters, the sky above them blushed rose and peach, sun hanging low like ripe fruit ready to fall. Bruise-black clouds threatened in the east. Tomorrow’s problem. 

Dick sighed contentedly, watching the others talk and eat, scraps of faces glowing and dying in the fire’s light. His glance snagged for a moment on Harry, sitting stiff and silent, watching intently as Kitty laughed at one of Malarkey’s jokes. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his whole body motionless apart from one hand tapping compulsively against the pocket of his jeans.   
‘You alright, Harry?’ Lew asked, evidently having caught the same sight. Harry twitched into life and flashed him a brief, brittle smile, nodding wordlessly. Dick squeezed gently at Lew’s arm.  
‘Leave him be,’ he murmured, tipping his head low. ‘I have a feeling…’  
‘What?’ Lew looked up at him, but Dick daren’t say more. Perhaps he was mistaken.  
‘Just wait. He’s fine.’

Shrugging, Lew let his head rest again on Dick’s shoulder.  
‘You reckon _they’re_ okay?’   
Dick felt him nod in the direction of Ron and Lip. Sitting on the other side of the fire, to a casual observer they might have appeared perfectly content, or as content as Ron’s near-impenetrable body language could suggest. It even took Dick a few moments to pick up on the way Lip stilled very slightly under Ron’s touch, as if not quite sure whether the sensation were real. In turn Ron would watch the back of Lip’s head as he talked to Eugene, then stare into the fire, seeing something else.   
‘Those two I don’t know about,’ Dick replied, pulling reflexively at Lew’s shoulder until he felt the solid realness of Lew’s weight against his chest. ‘But I know Lip’s never been one for accepting help; only giving it.’  
‘Maybe we should talk to him,’ Lew mumbled drowsily. Dick frowned a little, watching them.  
‘Hmm. Tomorrow.’

‘Hey, Dick!’ Lieb shouted over at him, gesturing to where Web was enthusiastically engaged in conversation with- or rather, at- Skip and Faye. ‘You wanna swap for a while?’  
Dick chuckled and shook his head, resting one arm around Lew’s waist.   
‘If you really think _I’m_ less work that Kerouac over there,’ Lew called, his voice muffled against Dick’s t-shirt, ‘then you’ve clearly never seen me after one too many Margaritas.’  
‘I didn’t realise Lieb was blind,’ Skip muttered to Faye, who very nearly managed to keep a straight face as she nodded along to Web’s ongoing lecture.

‘It’s incredible when you stop to think about it: in fact, that’s actually one of the things I wanted to explore in my novel-’  
‘I thought it was a screenplay,’ Lieb grumbled into his drink.  
‘-like we honestly _don’t know_ what’s out there… did you know we have more detailed maps of the surface of _Mars_ than of our own oceans? I mean, we didn’t even start exploring the Mid-Atlantic Ridge here on Earth until _four years_ after Neil Armstrong walked on the moon! The creative possibilities for a writer are endless, it’s actually really-’  
Web was cut off by a loud outburst of feigned snoring.  
 _‘It’s actually really interesting,’_ he finished, pinching Lieb on the ear.

‘C’mon, Lip,’ Lieb called, answering Web with an elbow to the ribs. ‘We gonna see these fireworks or what? Put me outta my misery here!’  
‘It’s barely even dark yet,’ Lip replied, getting up nonetheless. Ron’s eyes followed him as he stood. ‘But I suppose we could set them up just now, huh, Smokey? Make the most of last light.’

As it transpired, the sun melted swiftly once it touched the horizon, flaring bright amber then slowly flickering to nothing in the heat haze like an ember in the dying fire. As Lip and Smokey prepared to light the fuses, a first faint speckle of stars appeared overhead.   
‘Everyone ready?’ Smokey yelled, his voice swallowed by the shadowed expanse of waves behind him. A ragged answering cheer sounded from where the remains of the bonfire still glowed.   
Two tiny sparks of light trembled briefly in the huge darkness, then Lip and Smokey were running, throwing themselves down amongst the others with a scatter of sand.  
‘Wait for it…’ Lip whispered into silence stretched taut for one expectant moment. 

Suddenly, with a bang and a scream that tore ecstatically into the night, huge billowing fronds of light burst high above in a tangle of red and green.   
‘Woah!’ Shifty whooped, Grant and Johnny whistling as the waves dazzled briefly with a riot of colour. Echoes thundered hugely as the last sparks fell and faded, plunging the beach once again into shades of black.  
‘Okay, next,’ Lip pulled Smokey to his feet and the pair of them jogged away to set up another round.   
‘Hold onto your butts!’ Smokey called back as he ran. ‘These next ones are our best sellers!’

‘Is this starting to feel like a sales pitch to you?’  
Dick could hear the smile in Lew’s voice. He felt its answer tug at his own lips.  
‘I can’t send you to the corner store for a bottle of milk, Lew, never mind a box of explosives.’  
Beside them they sensed a person stirring, then heard the low hum of Harry’s voice, his words indiscernible.   
‘Huh?’ Kitty’s voice joined it and received no reply. Then the sound of footsteps: two sets grinding quietly into the sand, then fading.

‘What was that all about?’ Lew muttered, nuzzling closer to Dick as the sea breeze began slowly to lose its warmth. Dick chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.  
‘Just wait. I think…’ he paused, sighing. ‘Just wait.’  
He felt Lew shrug against him.

‘Alright, everyone keep back!’ Smokey’s voice reached them once again, and in a few moments he and Lip were sprinting back up the beach.   
‘You’re sure we shouldn’t just go and che-’  
Lew was interrupted by a high, soaring howl and a booming ricochet of white-golden light. The sea and the sand lit up like an overexposed photograph, sending coloured spots dancing before Dick’s eyes. He could hear Bull and Joe cheering as the great bright blooms shrivelled slowly into mere spots of light, falling against the stars. Then, before darkness could shroud them again, a second barrage flew shrieking upwards and shattered overhead.

Deafened by each huge eruption of noise, Dick watched through flickers of darkness as Faye huddled against Skip’s chest, her mouth open in what must have been a shriek. Grant’s chest shook with laughter devoid of sound, Perconte’s mouth moving as if in mockery against the deafening tirade in the sky. Looking out across the shoreline, Dick saw the landscape in flashes of strobing light. He saw Harry and Kitty, walking hand-in-hand further down the beach, stopping occasionally to look back at the fireworks. Their movements seemed broken, spasmodic: figures caught inside a zoetrope. As he watched, eyes dazed and blurry, Harry seemed to shrink erratically into the sand. Dick blinked, squinting at them. No, not shrinking- _kneeling._

‘Lew!’  
His voice was swallowed by another explosion. He grabbed Lew’s shoulder and shook him. The darkness of Lew’s eyes was lit to burning amber as he turned and gaped silently at Dick.  
‘Look!’ Dick pointed to what was now a rapidly filling pool of darkness. Then honey-coloured sparks filled the sky again, revealing Harry on one knee, and Kitty holding out a single starlit hand.  
 _‘Oh my god!’_ Dick lip-read as Lew turned back to face him. Lew’s laughter was a warm hum in his chest as they pulled each other close. Instantly they began tugging on arms and nudging at turned backs, gesticulating silently down the beach at the resulting crowd of confused faces. As if on cue, Harry stood and swept Kitty into a kiss.

Though they could never have heard the cheers that rang ragged in everyone’s throats, Harry and Kitty must have caught sight of movement further up the beach. Just before the final shower of light scattered overhead they broke from their embrace and waved back, their smiles illuminated in a wave of gold. 

***

 

‘I thought it’d be _romantic!’_  
Harry stared, bemused, as his friends crumpled into riotous laughter around him. ‘Y’know, the beach… moonlight… beautiful fireworks…’  
‘I couldn’t hear a _word_ he was saying!’ Kitty gasped, holding out her glass as Lew poured another round of champagne. ‘When he knelt down, I thought at first he’d fallen over the volleyball net!’  
Smokey wiped a tear from his eye, hiccupping. ‘Well, me and Lip want seats at the top table for our instrumental role in this affair: talk about stealing another guy’s thunder!’  
‘We’ll hire you as entertainment for the reception, how about that, huh?’ Harry grinned, his arm around Kitty’s shoulders. ‘Maybe not Hoob, though. He might set the place on fire.’  
For once, Hoobler just shook his head and laughed. 

‘Oh, show me again, Kitty!’ Faye leaned over and took Kitty’s left hand, a diamond sparkling on her finger against its gold band.   
‘Hell, Harry, it’s beautiful…’ Lew swigged at the last dregs of champagne before putting the bottle down. ‘You can even see the diamond!’  
‘Yeah well, I’ve been saving up for a while,’ Harry chuckled as Dick swatted at the back of Lew’s head.  
‘We wish you both every happiness,’ Dick added.

‘And the cost of the ring won’t matter, since you’ll hardly have to spend a cent on the wedding.’  
Harry looked at Joe, who was working the cork off a second bottle.   
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Well,’ Joe shrugged, gesturing towards himself and Bill. ‘Two of your most generous and attractive friends are barmen… between Babe and Ron there’s your catering organised… Smokey’s already got the entertainment in the works… and Luz is ordained.’   
The cork popped with a fizzing splatter of foam, sending a picture frame swaying crazily as it rocketed off the wall.   
_‘What?’ _  
A ripple of incredulous laughter travelled around the living room, all eyes suddenly fixed on Luz. He shrugged, nonchalant.  
‘It’s true.’  
Harry was the first to find his voice. ‘You… Really? _Why?’___  
Another shrug. ‘Thought it’d be funny, I guess. Did it for free online: only took, like, five minutes. Could marry ya right now if you wanted.’  
Kitty burst into a fit of slightly tipsy giggles. ‘I think I should probably tell my parents first, but we’ll keep that in mind.’

___‘Okay,’ Lew stood, rubbing his hands together. ‘I think the occasion calls for a romantic movie night at the Nixon Picture House. Anybody got any requests?’_  
‘Something Luz hasn’t seen before!’ said Skinny, returned almost to a normal human complexion after sleeping off his hangover all day at the beach.   
‘Why one Luz hasn’t seen?’ asked Faye. Skip rolled his eyes.  
‘You’ll find out. Hey, Lieb, you buy any popcorn at the store?’  
Lieb shook his head. ‘All we got left is those fuckin’ potatoes.’  
‘Bring them!’ Lew said. ‘We can throw them at Luz if he won’t shut up.’ 

___‘Actually, guys,’ Harry had got up and was edging towards the door, Kitty’s arms wrapped around his waist. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I think we’re just gonna, uh…’ he jerked his head towards the stairway, cheeks flushing._  
‘Early night, huh?’ Bill grinned at them.  
‘Something like that.’  
Kitty hid her glowing face against Harry’s chest as the room erupted in a chorus of jeers and wolf-whistles.  
‘Good luck!’ Popeye yelled. ‘You’re gonna need it!’  
‘Hey, you wanna take Roger with you?’  
‘Don’t do anything Luz wouldn’t do!’  
Harry shot them a middle-finger salute as Kitty dragged him up the stairs. 

___‘Poor Kitty,’ Dick added, magnanimously stifling a chuckle. Faye shook her head, draining the last of the champagne from her glass.  
‘Believe me, she’s worse than the lot of you sometimes! What movies you got, Nix?’  
Lew opened the bookcase door. ‘Why don’t you come and see?’_

__***_ _

__

___“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy-”  
 _‘Luz!’__  
‘Shhh!’  
“-asking him to love her.” Luz cleared his throat, breaking out of his squeaky put-on accent. ‘No, that’s not it… “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy… asking him-”  
‘Oh my god,’ Faye sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
‘See what I mean?!’ Skip whispered. ‘Hey, Lieb, where’d you put those potatoes…’ 

___‘Oh crikey, I’m Hugh Grant, a fancy-ass British douchebag,’ Luz began in an unintelligible squawk. ‘In this movie I’m playing- you guessed it- a fancy-ass British douchebag, for the seventeenth fucking time in my career…’  
‘Luz,’ groaned Johnny, ‘your British accent is honestly the worst thing I’ve ever been subjected to in my entire life.’  
‘Hey!’ Joe hissed, turning round in his seat. ‘I’m tryin’ to watch this here!’  
Luz huffed loudly. ‘Christ, Joe, I’ve seen this movie a _million__ times…’  
‘Well some of us haven’t, so shut up!’ 

___‘Ooh, ooh, Lip!’ Luz kicked the back of Lip’s seat, receiving no response. ‘Favourite part…’  
 _“James Bond never has to put up with this sort of shit.”_  
‘James Bond never has to put up with this sort of shit!’ Luz echoed with a hideous Australian-sounding twang, braying with laughter.  
 _‘Luz!’__ Joe and Lip yelled in unison.  
‘What?!’ Luz shrugged innocently at them. ‘You boys ain’t enjoyin’ the movie or something?’ 

___A slice of light banded across the room as the door behind them opened, fluttering slowly back into darkness. Lip felt the sofa dip as Ron took a seat beside him once more, wreathed in the bitter blue scent of smoke.  
‘Did I miss much?’  
‘Only the happy ending,’ Lip replied, then flinched inwardly. The words he’d meant as a joke fell heavy into the memory of that morning’s events. Ron sat placid and still beside him.  
‘Picked a hell of a day for _that__ conversation,’ his voice sounded in Lip’s ear, rough with the edge of a smile. 

___Lip let out a soft breath of laughter. In the flickering gloom he looked around: at Babe and Eugene, already asleep in the front row, curled around each other on a nest of cushions. At Dick, his arm resting around Lew’s shoulders, and Lew watching Dick’s face more than he watched the screen. At Web and Lieb sitting in the back, not watching the movie at all.  
‘What I want someday, that’s not going to change,’ he whispered, his eyes on the credits as they began to roll. ‘But… right now, I just want you.’  
Ron’s hand found his in the darkness._


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the wedding has arrived! Happy endings abound.

‘Will you cut that out? It’s making me nervous.’  
‘Sorry,’ Lew quit rapping his knuckles against the font.   
Harry, who had been pacing back-and-forth across the vestibule for the best part of an hour, sat down heavily and smoothed a hand through his hair with a sigh. Barely a beat of silence passed before he was on his feet again.   
‘Here, Nix, get up. Your tie’s all crooked.’  
Lew waved him off, placing a steadying hand on Harry’s shoulder.   
‘Listen, will you relax? Everything looks great.’

‘Hey fellas,’ Web opened the heavy oak door, letting in a rabble of echoing voices from the hallway outside. ‘Wow, there’s a lot of pacing going on in here… keeping your feet from getting cold?’  
‘Ha-ha,’ Lew rolled his eyes at him. ‘Any news?’  
‘Won’t be long now,’ Web replied, taking a dog-eared copy of _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ from under the crook of his arm. ‘I just saw Kitty outside. She looks beautiful.’  
The tense set of Harry’s jaw softened briefly into a smile.   
‘Of course she does…’ he paused, looking at Web, who’d thrown himself into one of the discarded old chairs littering the room. ‘What are you doing?’  
‘My reading, for the ceremony,’ Web brandished a bookmarked page at them. ‘I’m trying to memorise it, that’s all. _“People always think that happiness is a faraway thing”…’_  
Harry cut him off with a groan. ‘You don’t need to memorise it, just take the book with you! Where’s Lieb, anyway?’  
Web shrugged. ‘He’s an usher: I imagine he’s out there… ushering, somewhere.’

‘Knock-knock…’ a familiar voice sounded at the door, causing Harry to turn a sickly shade of white as Lew scrambled to his feet.  
‘No! No, you can’t come in, it’s bad luck for the groom to see you before the-’  
‘Cripes, Harry,’ Dick beamed as he entered the room, adjusting the sprig of edelweiss in his buttonhole. ‘Anyone would think it was _you_ getting married today. Besides,’ he continued, eyes fixing on Lew. ‘I reckon we won’t be needing luck.’  
Lew’s eyes shone as he smiled back. 

‘Ugh,’ Harry muttered, turning away discreetly as Dick pulled Lew into an embrace. ‘Were Kitty and I so disgustingly sentimental on our big day?’  
‘You were even worse,’ Web added from his seat in the corner.   
Dick chuckled, his arm still looped around Lew’s waist. ‘Anyway, I just came to inform you that your co-best man will be arriving shortly with the rings. He’ll give Lew’s to Ron, to be delivered here.’  
Lew raised his eyebrows. ‘Ron? You’re sure that’s a good idea, entrusting my wedding ring to a known kleptomaniac?’  
‘Lip ensures me he’ll be thoroughly searched before leaving the premises,’ Dick replied drily, pinching Lew’s ear. ‘I’d better go. Your parents have just arrived.’  
‘Oh, Jesus Christ…’ Lew groaned.  
‘ _Really_ , Lewis…’  
‘What?! I’m sure he can forgive me just this once. Besides, mother always wanted me to have a church wedding. She drew the line at putting you in a white dress, though.’  
Dick rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll see you at the altar,’ he replied, smiling into a final kiss.

‘Hey!’ Harry called as Dick opened the door. ‘If you see Kitty out there, will you tell her to sit down? She’s not supposed to be running around in her condition.’  
‘Of course,’ Dick replied with a last glance at Lew as he disappeared into the hallway.  
‘I doubt she could run if she tried,’ said Web. ‘She looks ready to burst. Are you sure it isn’t twins?’  
‘It better not be,’ Harry replied. ‘Four years of marital bliss and then _two_ of ‘em come along at once?! I’d rather my baby-making days weren’t over just yet.’  
‘And I thought you were planning on working your way up from a goldfish,’ Lew joked. 

Tense minutes continued to trickle slowly by, during which Lew unsuccessfully tried to open one of the stained-glass windows for a last pre-marital cigarette.  
‘Nix, I told you they don’t open,’ Harry flapped as Lew balanced on a creaky old table, tampering with the windowsill. ‘Now will you get down?! If you break a leg and we have to carry you up the aisle, Dick is gonna kill me…’  
Web laughed, looking up from his reading. ‘It’ll serve him right, keeping the responsible best man all to himself and leaving you two partners in crime to your own devices.’  
‘I’m sure Carwood is also preventing Dick from escaping out of a window at this very moment.’

‘Ron!’ Lew wheeled around, causing the table to rock perilously. ‘I, uh, wasn’t trying to… I mean…’  
Ron stood in the doorway, watching him evenly. ‘Of course you weren’t. And Web, certain ushers have taken it upon themselves to offer “haunted graveyard tours” in the grounds while we wait for the ceremony to begin. Perhaps you could direct the guests back inside, and reunite them with their tour fees?’  
Web sighed, rubbing his temples. ‘Whose bright idea was it exactly, making George Luz an usher?’  
Lew jumped down, straightening his suit jacket. ‘Dick thought it’d keep him out of trouble, having something to do… Don, Penk and Skip were supposed to keep an eye on him.’  
‘It seems instead they decided to take a cut of the profits,’ replied Ron.  
‘Whoever saw that one coming,’ Web grumbled, getting up. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

Lew chuckled as Web closed the door behind him.   
‘Remember when he used to be so scared of you he practically pissed his pants at the sight of a French Fancy?’  
Ron sighed, staring wistfully into the middle distance. ‘I miss those days. Y’know, Heffron called me “buddy” just now.’  
Harry snorted with laughter. ‘Makes up for that time he accidentally called you “sir”, I guess. What’s Babe up to, anyhow?’  
‘Practicing his signature for the wedding register. He and Eugene seem prepared to witness this wedding to within an inch of its life.’

Lew shook his head. ‘Well, it looks like your reign of terror is over, Ron.’ He clapped Ron consolingly on the shoulder. ‘Face it: Lip’s rubbed off on you at last.’  
Ron gave him an inscrutable look. ‘Perhaps. Anyway, I come bearing gifts.’   
Lew’s face brightened as Ron produced a hipflask from his pocket.  
‘Well, this is shaping up to be a real nice day,’ he joked, taking a swig. 

‘And _this_ is for Harry,’ said Ron, holding out a small black velvet ring box.   
‘I hope you won’t take offence, Ron,’ Harry said as he took the box, ‘but I am gonna check you haven’t replaced it with a Ring Pop and kept the original for yourself.’  
‘Ah, the perfect crime,’ Lew chuckled as Ron rolled his eyes. 

Harry’s smile stiffened as he opened the box, Lew’s laughter faltering into silence.  
‘…What?’ Lew glanced at Ron. ‘Don’t tell me he actually _did_ -’  
‘No, no!’ Harry looked up, frowning. ‘But I think you might have accidentally made off with Dick’s as well.’  
‘What do you-’ Ron’s puzzled expression froze abruptly.  
‘There’s two rings in here!’ continued Harry, holding out the box. 

Inside, nestled amongst its ivory silk lining, sat a plain yellow-gold band. Beside it was another, made of something like silver but darker, with a single small diamond embedded into the metal. Lew shook his head.  
‘That’s not Dick’s. Both of ours are gold, exactly the same. What the hell…’  
Both he and Harry turned to stare at Ron, whose face had drained of all colour, his eyes fixed on the ring box.   
‘Holy shit, Ron,’ Lew whispered. ‘Did you just use my wedding to pull off a jewel heist?’

This snapped Ron out of it. He shot Lew a dirty look as Harry choked with laughter in the corner.  
‘I and my thoroughly depleted bank account can assure you that it was acquired by lawful means. I picked it up this morning while Carwood was busy collecting the wedding bands.’  
‘And where better to hide it than in plain sight?’ Lew suggested.  
‘Exactly.’ Ron passed a hand over his face, sighing. ‘Until I forgot to remove it.’  
‘You mean,’ Harry spluttered, regaining his breath, ‘this is for…?’  
‘Carwood, yes,’ Ron nodded.  
‘Well… wow!’ Harry’s face split into a huge grin. Lew wisely handed him the hip-flask.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Ron turned to Lew. ‘I was planning on doing it after the party: there’s a spot down by the river, near where the marquee’s been set up. I, uh… was going to ask Carwood to keep it quiet until after your honeymoon.’ He paused, taking the silver-grey ring from the box. ‘If he says yes, that is.’  
 _‘Mind?’_ Lew gave an amazed huff of laughter. ‘My only concern is that if Dick gets wind of your intentions to finally make an honest man of Carwood Lipton, he’ll force Luz to marry the pair of you on the spot!’  
‘I don’t want to upstage you on your big day,’ Ron conceded, rubbing the back of his head.  
‘Nonsense,’ Lew waved the suggestion away, leaning over. ‘Now let’s have a look at this ring…’

‘It’s titanium,’ said Ron as he handed it over.   
‘Different,’ Lew observed, holding it against the light. Watching the metal gleam sleek against his palm, he didn’t see Ron’s smile.  
‘Yes. This time it will be.’ 

‘Nix?’  
Lew spun around, slipping the engagement ring deftly into Ron’s hand.   
‘Yeah?’ he asked, staring innocently at Lieb, who was standing with his head stuck around the door. Flashing them a huge grin as Harry offered him the hipflask, Lieb gestured out into the hallway- towards the congregation.   
‘Ready when you are.’

***

 

‘So it’s the night before Luz’s birthday: he’s thinking we’ve forgotten all about it, Don’s apartment is dolled up like a Christmas tree, we’re all set for the big surprise… but we _still_ don’t have any booze!’   
Harry listed slightly on his feet in front of an audience of giddy, champagne-flushed faces.  
‘And who better to send on this _most vital_ of secret missions… than Dick Winters over there, who’s drinking orange juice at his own wedding party!’

Dick flushed and sank a little in his seat as gales of laughter echoed through the marquee, glancing apologetically down the top table to where his parents sat. Leaning over, he placed a hand on Lew’s knee.  
‘We had a real church wedding, Kitty’s waters miraculously didn’t break in the middle of the ceremony, Luz only managed to extort money from a couple of dotty old aunts and Lip told that perfectly nice story about our first date… then Harry has to spill the beans to my mother about the vodka-filled kiddie pool incident.’  
Lew laughed, his eyes filled with candlelight, smoothing a shining auburn lick of Dick’s hair back into place.   
‘Dick, you just married a godless, alcoholic reprobate. I’m sure she’ll forgive you.’

‘So Dick’s standing there in the liquor store, and the guy asks “what can I do ya for?” And Dick says… “I’ll have four hundred litres of vodka, please”!’  
The marquee erupted into hilarity once again, Buck wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as Bill grinned with his arm slung around Joe’s shoulders. Web smiled drowsily, half-listening, resting his head against Lieb’s shoulder. 

Slivers of rose-gold light ran in seams through the marquee, lighting on discarded glasses and bouquets of white flowers. Babe’s shadow stretched long over the tables as he turned to kiss Eugene’s cheek. Behind them, the plump amber sun snagged at black silhouettes of trees along the river, its waters shining like melted brass in the day’s last moments. Faye and Kitty sat looking only at each other, their faces bright with mirth.

‘Where has Lip got to, anyway?’ Dick asked, glancing around. ‘He’ll miss the toast if he’s not back soon.’  
Lew’s eyes lighted immediately on Ron’s empty chair. Looking out toward the riverside, a smile spread across his face as he caught sight of two shadows flickering through the treeline.   
‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’  
Dick frowned heedlessly, shifting in his seat. ‘But he’s my _best man_ , why would he-’

Lew took Dick’s hand, stilling him.   
‘I hate to spoil the surprise,’ he whispered, leaning in close, ‘but I think Ron’s taken him off to ask a certain… question.’  
He nodded towards the horizon, to a pair of figures now clear against dusk’s bloom, walking hand-in-hand. It took a moment for the light to dawn in Dick’s eyes.  
‘You mean…?’  
Lew nodded, grinning as Dick burst into a laugh of sheer delight, closing his eyes against the blushing sun as Dick kissed him: kisses effervescent with joy. 

‘And now,’ Harry’s voice rose above the merriment, ‘nothing more remains but for me to ask you all to raise your glasses… to the happy couple!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the story comes to an end...
> 
> This fic had been an absolute joy to write and I am so happy that some of you have also found joy in reading it. I've replied to you all personally but I just wanted to say again, to everyone who has left comments (and kudos!) along the way, thank you for taking the time and the effort to let me know your thoughts. Your kind, detailed and funny observations gave me the motivation to see this work though to its conclusion.
> 
> I actually feel like I could have kept this fic going forever, but keeping up with weekly updates meant dedicating most of my writing time to this work alone, and I have other ideas for shorter fics and an original project of my own that I need to dedicate more time to. As a result I have a lot of ideas I was planning to incorporate into this story which may become smaller independent fics of their own, so although this particular work is over, the characters as they appear in this AU may return in the future. 
> 
> All that remains is for me to say thank you again to everyone who has read this far, and if you feel like it, please let me know what you think of the completed story!


End file.
